


Rise Up

by kanekki



Series: Accuse Me Thus [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Olympics, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Romance, Sexual Content, Supportive Katsuki Yuuri, Supportive Otabek Altin, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, skating family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9972446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanekki/pseuds/kanekki
Summary: A few months after the trauma of the last season, Yuri tries to pull himself together before the Olympics.Sequel toI Will Not Break.





	1. Learn to Manage

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a sequel to [I Will Not Break](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9610640/chapters/21713519). It begins a few months after the end of that story, continuing on with the new season. This fic will focus on Yuri’s recovery and will be set a lot more in the world of skating, as he will be competing this year. The events of “I Will Not Break” will be referenced quite heavily throughout, so you will definitely need to read that first if this fic is to make sense to you.
> 
> I have used the Rape/Non-Con Archive warning to be careful. None will occur in this fic, but it does reference violence and non-con that appears in the first fic. 
> 
> Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy this first chapter!

Yuri Plisetsky firmly believed that living with Katsuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov without Otabek at his side was his own personal hell on earth.

 

They were so disgustingly romantic with each other that Yuri felt like vomiting five times before breakfast every day of the week. He also wasn’t used to being cared for, wasn’t used to people wanting to cook for him, or help him with menial tasks. Awkwardness flooded every moment, every time they’d do something kind for him. 

 

No one had ever done that for him before.

 

He also didn’t have to pay the bills, which was really kind of nice, actually. He’d offered rent, but they had been so offended at the prospect that he hadn’t dared to bring it up again. He paid for cat food and litter, but other than that Victor and Yuuri gave him everything. His grandfather had been thrilled, of course. 

 

With his mother in prison and Yuri as an Olympic hopeful, his grandfather had taken it upon himself to check into an assisted living facility, saying he could no longer drain resources from Yuri’s coach by living in his home. Yuri had protested, but the facility was nice and there were a lot of people his grandfather’s own age to talk to there. He only could visit once a month as it was all the way out in Moscow, but they kept in touch via phone.

 

His boyfriend’s absence hurt the most. There was a distinct void in his life without Otabek there. They texted daily and Skyped or FaceTimed as much as they could, but with both of them so busy training plus a time difference, there wasn’t much time to share between them.

 

Which left him stuck with Katsudon and his gross partner. 

 

_ They are so fucking disgusting, ugh, just kill me now. _

 

Victor and Yuuri were in the kitchen baking some kind of weird dessert, laughing and licking frosting off of each other’s fingers. Yuri was trying very hard not to look as the sight both made him sick to his stomach and jealous with longing for his own boyfriend. Instead, he focused on playing with Kobi, who had grown into quite a large cat with a devilish attitude.

 

_ She takes after me, for sure. _

 

Makkachin was utterly petrified of Kobi, and Yuri often shot a lot of Instagram videos of the two playfully chasing each other around the apartment. He was absurdly proud of his bedraggled kitten, one eye, torn ear, and slightly bowlegged. He posted pictures of her almost daily, with the hashtag #kobicat. His fans went wild for it, and Otabek would like every single picture, commenting about how he missed his ‘precious girl.’

 

When he wasn’t skating or at the apartment with his cat, there was still the therapy, something which Yuri struggled to fit into his training regimen. Some weeks, he loathed his therapist for taking up so much of his valuable practice time. Other weeks, he felt like he was drowning and could barely function with her help, let alone skate. His PTSD and anxiety were still not under control and he had several full-on panic attacks at the rink when Georgi or Mila had accidentally tapped on his shoulder to get his attention. 

 

It was horrifyingly embarrassing. Yakov told them some kind of lie to get them to stop worrying about him, and Yuri had gone back to practice. He wasn’t sure honestly how much Yakov knew about what had happened to him the last year, but he wasn’t about to share anything with his coach.

 

Not unless he had to, anyway.

 

He rolled his eyes as Katsudon flicked some frosting or something on Nikiforov’s face, opening a text on his phone.

 

**Yuri** : Beka, save me. They are so gross. Yuuri is literally licking his face now I am going to vomit.

**Otabek** : Yura, come on, it can’t be that bad.

**Yuri** : It is, save me. 

**Otabek** : Aw, sad face. Call me?

 

Yuri’s heart skipped a beat as he dialed Otabek’s number happily, please when his boyfriend answered on the second ring.

 

_ “Yura,” _ Otabek said happily,  _ “I miss you.” _

 

“I miss you, too,” Yuri confessed, heart pounding as his boyfriend’s voice soothed him.

 

_ “So? What happened today? Anything exciting?”  _

 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Besides the disgusting baking display? Nothing, really. Just practice. Honestly, I feel like my body is going to collapse any minute. Yakov has me in the gym on my off days and I don’t think my body was meant to do this much exercise.”

 

Otabek laughed.  _ “I know the feeling. Our coach had us run laps at five in the morning. I thought I was going to pass out!” _

 

Before Yuri could respond, Kobi leapt up onto his stomach, meowing loudly. 

 

_ “Aw, is that my precious girl?”  _ Otabek cooed over the phone,  _ “Do you miss me?” _

 

Yuri rolled his eyes, but Kobi meowed with enthusiasm, walking all over Yuri’s stomach.

 

“Ouch, fuck,” he cursed, “Put your claws away.” 

 

Otabek laughed and they continued their light conversation for a while longer. After a while, Yuri noticed Otabek had gone quiet.

 

“Beka?” he prodded, wondering what the problem was.

 

_ “Yura…” _ he sighed,  _ “How are you? I mean, really?” _

 

Yuri swallowed, hating that he couldn’t talk to Otabek in person. “I’m...fine.”

 

_ “Bullshit.” _

 

“Okay, okay. Not fine, but…I’m dealing.”

 

_ “Have you given anymore thought to trying the meds?” _

 

Yuri’s gut clenched. He tried to avoid this topic at all costs, as it was a sure way to start a fight between the two of them. Yuri had utterly refused to take any kind of medication for his conditions, unable to confront relying on pills. He understood that they worked, they were necessary, but all he could see was that he was turning into his mother.

 

Otabek didn’t understand, saying Yuri needed them to get better, and Yuri supposed that he was probably right, but he didn’t  _ want _ to take meds. He couldn’t. They reminded him of too many bad things in his past.

 

“Beka...I don’t want to talk about this,” Yuri said quietly, “Please.”

 

There was a soft sigh at the other end.  _ “Okay. I respect that. I’m just worried for you, kotik.” _

 

“I know,” Yuri murmured, “I’m sorry. I just...I can’t, I don’t want to fight tonight.”

 

_ “Neither do I. I’m sorry, Yura,”  _ Otabek sighed,  _ “I love you, you know.” _

 

“I love you too,” Yuri said, gently petting Kobi, her purrs soothing him. They continued their tender conversation for a while, steering towards safer topics. Yuri told a funny story from earlier in the week where Georgi had literally fallen on top of Mila during practice. Otabek laughed throughout and Yuri’s throat swelled with emotion each time he heard it.

 

_ I miss you so fucking much. _

 

Eventually, Yuri realized it had gotten late and he needed to get to bed. They said their goodnights, and he hung up, not bothering to move off the couch into his bedroom. Kobi made a ball on his chest, purring loudly. She was so big that she warmed him like a space heater and he felt no need to move.

 

A whimper sound was by his side and a very jealous Makkachin was there, licking his hand.

 

“Alright,” Yuri sighed, “You too.” He patted the end of the couch, the big dog happily leaping up onto his feet. 

 

_ Animals are better than blankets and beds _ .

 

He heard a soft snort of laughter from the kitchen and the  _ snap _ of a camera phone as someone saw the animals piled on top of him.

 

“I am so posting this,” Victor laughed, “Yuri, how do you want me to tag you?”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “I don’t fucking care, just don’t wake them up, they’re warm.”

 

Victor giggled with glee, furiously typing into his phone. Sure enough, a few moments later, Yuri’s phone buzzed with an alert that Victor had tagged him on Instagram. The picture was sweet, soft lighting making Yuri look healthy and relaxed. The picture was from the side, but you could clearly see both Kobi and Makkachin curled up on his body. He also realized that the Kazakhstani skating jacket he was currently wearing was  _ very  _ visible, with ‘ALTIN’ spelled out in large letters on the back.

 

_ Oops. Sorry, Beka.  _

 

**@yuri-plisetsky is the #animalwhisperer #smallrussianson #proudfather #makkachinpup #kobicat**

 

“Ugh,  _ Victor!” _ Yuri groaned, smacking his forehead, “I am not your damn  _ child!” _

 

Victor laughed cheerfully. “Goodnight,  _ son, _ ” he cackled before heading off to his and Yuuri’s bedroom. 

 

_ Ugh. Asshole. He loves pulling that shit. _

 

His heart skipped a beat as he checked the notifications on the photo.

 

**@otabek-altin likes this post**

 

_ Okay, I guess it’s not so bad. _

 

His phone vibrated again and grinned as he saw a text from his boyfriend.

 

**Otabek:** Jacket stealer.

**Otabek:** You should...really keep it though. Looks good on you.

**Otabek:** Night Yura <3

**Yuri:** Good, cause you’re not getting back. Night <3

 

Yuri closed his eyes, snuggling into his boyfriend’s jacket while the purring from Kobi and light snoring from Makkachin soothed him into a relaxed sleep.

 

* * *

 

Practice the next morning was brutal.

 

Yuri’s back was sore from sleeping on the couch and he had to endure Mila’s teasing about the “small russian son” comment that Victor had made. No one commented on it, but he had dark circles under his eyes, a by-product from awakening several times during the night from dreams.

 

No one commented on the fact that he was wearing a Team Kazakhstan jacket, either. It was kind of an unspoken rule of the rink that when Yuri wore Otabek’s jacket, he wasn’t having a good day. The jacket still smelled faintly of Otabek and it helped to ground him on his worst days. He could tell that today was going to be a rough one, given the dreams that he had the night before.

 

His dreams weren’t necessarily nightmares, they were just...unsettling, and very, very vivid. Usually having to do with replaying one of the many events of his life, Yuri found himself waking up quite frequently, unsure if he was still in a dream or truly awake. He had once put himself in such a frenzy after a dream that Victor had actually had to slap him lightly to get him to snap out of it.

 

It wasn’t pleasant.

 

Trying to focus on the goal of his Olympic trial qualifications which were coming up in a few weeks, Yuri swallowed his emotions and got down to business. 

 

_ Okay. Triple toe loop, double toe loop combo followed by...what. Quad sal? Quad flip? Fuck… _

 

“Yuri!” Yakov shouted as he flubbed his jump sequence, “What are you _ doing?  _ That isn’t in your routine.”

 

_ Oh...whoops. God, focus, you idiot! _

 

Gritting his teeth, Yuri went back to finishing the routine. He saw Victor looking at him with concern out of the corner of his eye while Katsudon took a water break.

 

_ Stop staring at me like that, I’m fine. _

 

Yuri positioned himself for his final leap and flew into the jump, landing it perfectly.

 

“Davai, Yuri!” Victor called from the side of the rink and Yuri flushed with pride.

 

_ Okay, I screwed up the first part, but at least I still have the last sequence down.  _

 

“That was  _ beautiful _ , Yuri!” Georgi called and Yuri swallowed his disgust. He hated being called beautiful, not even Otabek could do it without him cringing. It always reminded him of what had happened, what those  _ men _ said about him. Hearing it now after such an emotional morning set his teeth on edge. 

 

Ignoring Georgi, Yuri skated off to the side and grabbed his phone, planning shooting a quick text to Otabek, hoping to take his mind off things. He snapped a picture of himself burying his face in the collar of the jacket, the ‘ALTIN’ clearly visible.

 

**Yuri:** I love you and this jacket is mine. Forever.

**Otabek** : I am 100% fine with that as long as I keep seeing pictures of you wearing it. And I love you too.

**Yuri** : Ah, so you like seeing me wear your clothes?

**Otabek** : Yura, you have no idea what you do to me. Send me something of yours?

**Yuri** : It’s a deal.

 

Yuri’s heart swelled and he planned on shipping off something to Otabek as soon as he could, briefly freed from the darkening thoughts in his head. Realizing he couldn’t stay on his phone forever, he skated over towards Yuuri who was towards the end of his break.

 

“Katsudon,” he said quietly, not wanting to attract Victor’s attention. Yuuri looked up at him in surprise, expression softening as he read Yuri’s expression.

 

“Bad day?” Yuuri asked quietly. Yuri flushed, but nodded. Katsudon was the only person who really got an inkling of what Yuri was feeling and he usually had a good strategy to get through the day. 

 

“Try thinking only about the components of your routine,” Yuuri suggested, “Commit them to memory and think of them methodically while you skate during practice. It won’t be your best run through, but it will help ground you and it’s good practice if your anxiety kicks in during your performance.”

 

_ Okay, simple enough. I can do that. _

 

Yuri nodded. “Thanks.”

 

Positioning himself to run through his free skate again, he could think only of Otabek, hours away, doing the same thing.

 

_ I miss you. _

_ Fuck. _

_ Okay. What was it...routine components? _

_ Okay.  _

_ Here we go. _

 

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he began the first part of his step sequence, focusing only on the technical aspects of his routine. 

 

_ I can do this. _

_ I have to. _


	2. Holler Just to be Heard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the reviews! I am so excited that people are so into this sequel. I am having so much fun writing it already, and it's nice to have some cute scenes in with the sad ones. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

It was so dark that Yuri could barely make out anything in front of him. It was cold, freezing even, and his breath was visible with each exhale. He crouched, body taught as a wire, waiting for the threat to come closer. He could sense it coming, hearing a rumbling in the distance. Panic beginning to set in, he slowly lowered himself to the ground, feeling the mud from the earth seep into his pant legs.

 

Cocking his gun to fire at the threat, he positioned himself to aim at it directly. A sudden force pushed him face down into the earth. Mud filled his nostrils and his lungs, mouth so full of dirt that it began to go down his throat. He couldn’t breathe and he clawed at his chest, trying to force it out of his lungs. He tried to cough, tried to move, but his body locked in place.

 

_Someone, anyone. Help me! Help me, I can’t move!_

 

Panic and fear beginning to weave their way through him as he realized that something was _wrong._

 

_Oh god, I can’t move! I can’t move!_

_Wait, this isn’t right. Fuck, am I asleep?_

_If I’m asleep why can’t I breathe?_

 

A sudden horror seized him as he felt a terrible pain grip his lungs.

 

_They’re stuffed full of mud, I can taste it, oh god…_

 

_Mama, help me._

 

“MAMA!”

 

Screaming, Yuri shot up out of bed. He could hear thudding footsteps as his door was thrown open and the lights were turned on. Taking in huge gulps of air, he was unsure of why he could suddenly breathe so well. The taste of mud still lingered in his mouth and a wave of nausea turned inside him.

 

“Yuri, it’s okay, you’re safe,” Victor soothed, pulling Yuri into a kind of bear hug. The pressure helped him calm down as he gasped, gripping Victor’s arms so tightly that he was sure he was leaving bruises.

 

_Fuck, fuck I don’t know what’s real and what’s a dream, I can still taste it…_

 

He was sure he looked a mess, wild dark eyes and tousled hair. He felt like someone had thrown him into a freezing cold ocean and then yanked him out to dry.

 

“Yuri, it was just a bad dream. Can you feel my hand?” Yuuri asked softly, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. Victor still had him in a vice grip and Yuri was still panicking, unsure if this was fiction or reality.

 

“Mud,” he gasped, “In my lungs. Get it out, please _get it out.”_

 

He heard the rustling of package and something was pressed into his hand. He looked down to see a small white circle and his heart thudded.

 

_What is this? Drugs?_

 

“It’s just a mint, Yurachka,” Victor murmured, “It’ll help you feel better. We’re here, you’re safe.”

 

Taking the mint, he shoved it into his mouth with shaking hands, the icy coolness bursting over his tongue. Coming back to himself, he saw that he was basically in Victor’s lap leaning sideways on the bed. In his terror, he had kicked a lamp off the bedside table and Kobi was meowing unhappily at the rukus.

 

“Fuck,” he quaked, squeezing Victor’s arms to ground himself, “It...it was so real.”

 

Yuuri was sitting in front of them, still holding the open package of mints. He shared a worried glance with Victor, but they quickly turned their focus to the younger Russian, still shaking in Victor’s arms.

 

“Tell us about it,” Victor whispered softly. Over the past few weeks, Yuuri and Victor had both learned that phrasing things as questions got nowhere with Yuri. If they asked him, ‘do you want to talk about this’ he would always say no, defensively closing himself off. By phrasing things as statements, he was more likely to open up.

 

Yuri normally would have been mortified to have Victor hold him, but he was so shaken up that instead he curled into Victor’s chest, gripping his shirtsleeve. Yuuri scooted closer and put a gentle hand on his own, making him feel safe and grounded.

 

“It...I had a gun,” he began shakily, “And there was something after me, but I didn’t know what it was. It was so cold I...I hid but something pushed me down and...there was so much mud in my mouth and I couldn’t _breathe._ I called for mama and she...she didn’t come for me. _”_

 

Yuri had had nightmares before, but none quite this ominous or vivid. His doctor had mentioned that night terrors and sleep paralysis were potential symptoms of PTSD, but so far he hadn’t experienced much in that department. His dreams were usually flashbacks of things he had experienced and he was unsure of what to make of this strange dream. He was still so full of unexplainable fear that he had absolutely no desire to go back to sleep, or to be alone.

 

Victor shifted slightly, loosening his grip in Yuri but he whimpered in protest. Embarrassed at how needy he was being, he kept himself curled on Victor’s chest.

 

“Stay…” he murmured, almost inaudibly, “Please. Please don’t leave.”

 

Yuuri looked at them both before retreating for a moment. Coming back with his laptop, he pulled up Netflix and popped on a quiet nature documentary, something calming and peaceful. Yuri was still tense, but the soothing sounds from the birds on the screen and the presence of his friends helped him.

 

They stayed awake all night, and agreed that no one would be telling Yakov that they had missed so much sleep.

 

* * *

 

The morning after, predictably, was hell. The Russian event that would determine the Olympic team was in less than a week and Yuri needed to get in some last minute practice, which meant leaving for the rink ungodly early. Yuuri had already qualified for Japan, and with Otabek on the Kazakhstan team, it was down to him. Without Victor in the way, his fifteen-year-old self would have had no problem making the cut, but his nearly seventeen-year-old self was unsure if he could.

 

Also predictably, he began his morning by putting on the well worn Team Kazakhstan jacket. Trying to push the thoughts of the nightmare from his mind, he skated through his warmups, trying to ignore the other Russian skaters on the ice. His former self would have basked in having the competition so close, but now it just annoyed him.

 

Running through his short program first, he thought purely of routine components. He knew his coach would be unhappy with the emotionless routine he was currently running, but at least he nailed all of his technical elements perfectly.

 

_At least I know I can do it even if I am an exhausted mess. Maybe I can really make the Olympic team after all._

_No, you can’t, you’re a big mess._

_Shut up, brain. I can do this._

 

After a time, Yakov called for a break and Yuri skated over to a bench, collapsing on his back. He ignored everyone else, just pulled out his phone to see if he had any texts or notifications.

 

 **Otabek:** Victor says you had a nightmare. How are you doing?

 

_Fuck he told him? God, let me handle my own relationship, Victor._

 

 **Yuri:** I’m okay. I’ll call you later, on a break right now.

 **Otabek:** Okay. Still wearing my jacket?

 **Otabek:** I really, really like seeing you in my clothes.

 **Otabek:** That picture you sent me the other day may just be my new lockscreen.

 

Yuri blushed a little, smiling in spite of himself. Holding his phone above him, he snapped a picture of himself laying back on the bench, Otabek’s jacket very visable on his body. He quickly opened Instagram and posted the photo.

 

**I might skate for Russia, but my heart beats for #teamkazakhstan and @otabek-altin. #boyfriend #thisjacketismine**

 

A few moments later, he received another text.

 

 **Otabek:** You are going to be the death of me.

 **Yuri:** ;-)

 

His phone buzzed again.

 

**@otabek-altin commented on your post: #teamrussiaforever #keepthejacket #looksbetteronyou**

 

Knowing that this exchange would drive their fans up a wall, he closed the app before he could see the comments roll in. Now public knowledge, their relationship was a point of gossip in a lot of the buzz around the Olympics. They had become a gossip item and while Yuri didn’t like that and Otabek liked it even less, it didn’t stop them from posting and sharing what they wanted to on social media.

 

“Yuri! Stop playing on your phone and get back to work,” Yakov barked from the other side of the rink. Groaning, Yuri pulled himself up, throwing himself back into practice.

 

 _One more week, I_ **_can_ ** _do this._

 

The taste of mud still lingered, but it was less vivid than before.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, Victor and Yuuri had gone out for a dinner date, leaving Yuri in charge of their small zoo. He had made a nest on his bed of blankets, snacks, magazines, and his laptop and phone. Kobi was walking over everything, swatting lazily at a stray thread on the bedspread. Makkachin lay at his feet, snoring quietly.

 

Enjoying the solitude, he pulled up the skype app on his laptop, excited that he’d be getting a bigger view of Otabek than just FaceTime. It had been several months since they had seen each other in person and the long distance was very difficult.

 

Thrilled that not only could he call his boyfriend but they would have several uninterrupted hours to talk, Yuri excitedly pressed “call” and waited for Otabek to pick up.

 

“Hey!” Otabek exclaimed happily as his screen popped up, “It’s so good to see you.”

 

_Oh fuck, he looks so good. Working out everyday is...doing things to him._

 

“You too,” Yuri smiled, shifting so he was laying on his stomach, feet up in the air behind him, “How was your practice?”

 

Otabek rolled his eyes. “Brutal. I think my coach is trying to kill us.”

 

“Yeah, I sympathize,” Yuri groaned, “Today Yakov made me run through my free skate like six times. It was murder.”

 

Otabek chuckled. “I bet. How are Victor and Yuuri?”

 

“Disgusting, as usual. Want to see the princess?” Yuri asked, sitting up so he could reach over to grab Kobi. The cat hissed, protesting at being picked up, but unruffled a little when Yuri scratched between her ears.

 

“She looks so big now,” Otabek gushed, “What a cutie.”

 

Yuri kissed the cat on the head, causing her to purr loud enough that Otabek could hear.

 

“Not fair!” he whined, “How come she gets kisses from you and I have to be stuck here alone?”

 

Yuri laughed, setting the cat down. “Aw, Beka, you know I love you the most.”

 

Their cheerful banter went on for a long while as they spoke of Yuri’s upcoming Olympic trials, which Otabek said he would be attending, and gushing excitedly about seeing each other again. Knowing that they had less than a week until they could see one another was making Yuri more excited by the minute. The conversation trailed off soon after, and Yuri knew what his boyfriend was about to ask.

 

“So…the nightmare. Victor said you were really shaken up,” Otabek murmured, looking concerned.

 

Yuri sighed. “Yeah...it’s fine, now. My doctor says it can happen sometimes, I’ll be alright.”

 

Otabek bit his lip nervously. “Did you...have you given any more thought to...you know?”

 

It took all of Yuri’s strength not to roll his eyes. “I am not taking meds, Beka. I won’t do it. I’m sorry you don’t agree, but I won’t.”

 

“I just wish I understood why,” Otabek said softly, “You know that Yuuri takes them, and he's doing fine.”

 

“I’m not Katsudon,” Yuri said, feeling anger building up inside of him. He tried to quash it down, knowing that Otabek was only coming from a place of caring.

 

Otabek ran a nervous hand through his hair, biting his lip again. “I know. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to push you, I’m just trying to understand.”

 

Sighing, Yuri flopped back onto his stomach. “I tried them. At first, right after you left Russia. I just...I hated the way they made me feel. It was that numb feeling again and it just reminded me of...before.”

 

Otabek nodded, looking surprised. “I didn’t know you had tried them. Why didn’t you say?”

 

_Because it’s none of your fucking business._

 

“Because it’s none of your fucking business,” Yuri seethed, “Or anyone else’s.”

 

_Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Damage control, Plisetsky._

 

“Sorry,” he rushed, before Otabek could say anything, “I didn’t mean it like that. My brain-to-mouth filter is off today.”

 

Otabek laughed. “Yura, you have no filter. And it’s okay, you’re right. It’s really not my business. I’ll stop asking about it, okay?”

 

Yuri nodded in relief. “Okay. And fuck you, I have a filter. You should hear what I sound like without a filter.”

 

“I’m not sure I could handle that,” Otabek smirked and they laughed together, tension broken.

 

Yuri felt more relaxed as their conversation drifted from topic to topic. He was focusing, paying attention to every word, until Otabek had the indecency to take off his t-shirt _on camera_ , so he was shirtless in front of the screen. Continuing the conversation like nothing was happening, Yuri felt his brain short circuiting.

 

“So, next week. After the competition? What do you think, Yura?”

 

_Fuck, what is he asking me about? Oh god, he is so fucking hot. Jesus christ._

 

“Uh…” he stuttered, unable to stop staring. Otabek gave him a weird look before looking down and blushing.

 

“OH!” he exclaimed, red in the face, “Um, sorry. It’s just really, really hot in here. Uh...oh god this is embarrassing. I’ll grab my shirt…”

 

“Don’t,” Yuri said before he could stop himself.

 

_Shit._

 

“...Don’t?” Otabek asked, a sly grin peeking at the corner of his mouth.

 

“I mean, why waste a good shirt, right? If you’re just going to get it sweaty,” Yuri stumbled, trying to salvage the situation.

 

Moving in front of the camera, Otabek gave him the most shit-eating grin he had ever seen from his boyfriend. “And I couldn’t possibly deprive you of this view, right?”

 

_Ugh, fucker. Fine!_

 

“I have to run to the bathroom,” Yuri said quickly, “Don’t sign off.”

 

“I won’t,” Otabek said cheerfully and Yuri leapt up to plot his revenge.

 

Scurrying to the bathroom, Yuri kept on the tight black pants he was wearing. Pulling off his t-shirt so he was bare-chested, he put on his boyfriend’s jacket, leaving it unzipped.

 

_Two can play at this game._

 

Walking back in front of the camera and sitting down, he swore he heard Otabek choke.

 

“You’re...wearing my jacket,” he said, ears turning pink, “And you’re...not wearing a shirt.”

 

“Sorry, it’s just really hot in here,” Yuri teased, grinning slyly at his boyfriend.

 

Otabek groaned. “Screw you, this is so unfair!”

 

_Ha, I win._

 

Expression softening, Yuri played with the hem of the jacket. “Five days, Beka. I get to see you in five days.”

 

“Yeah,” his boyfriend responded, “Longest five days of my life.”

 

_Five days._

_Just five more days._

 

“Yura, you’re going to kick ass at the trials,” Otabek said suddenly, “I can’t wait to watch you win.”

 

“You’re damn right,” Yuri said, a flicker of his old fire returning, “I’m going to dominate the free skate and the short program.”

 

_Wow. I think I really mean that._

_I might make the Olympics after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Alexandragray94 for the inspiration for the nightmare sequence at the beginning of this chapter. Your comment sparked the idea for it and I appreciate it very much!


	3. Not Throwing Away My Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments I am receiving on this are giving me _life_. Thank you all so, so much. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Just to be safe, I will give a trigger warning for this chapter because it references the rape/non-con incident from “I Will Not Break.”

Yuri could not contain his excitement.

 

He had come via taxi to meet Otabek at the airport as Yuuri and Victor were in the middle of practice and couldn’t drive him. Yakov had scolded him for leaving the ice a day before his Olympic trial, but he couldn’t stand to wait an extra moment to see his boyfriend. Proudly wearing the Team Kazakhstan jacket, Yuri felt a little like a fanboy waiting to meet a celebrity.

 

Finally, _finally,_ his phone buzzed with a text that the plane had landed. Rushing to the gate, he waited, excitement buzzing in his stomach. As the passengers departed, greeting their own loved ones, the scene blurred as one figure stepped off the tarmac.

 

_Oh my god there he is._

 

“Yura!” Otabek called, smiling brilliantly at him. Yuri couldn’t wait a moment longer, and ignoring how cheesy it was, he ran into his boyfriend’s awaiting embrace. Otabek laughed, hugging him tightly and swinging him around before leaning down and giving him a sweet kiss.

 

Yuri was pretty sure he was _melting._

 

_Ohh fuck. Oh my god I missed this._

 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he growled after they pulled apart, “Long distance sucks.”

 

Otabek laughed again, pressing their foreheads together. “I missed you, too. And I agree, it completely sucks. Nice jacket, by the way. Looks better in person.”

 

“Looks better on me, you mean,” Yuri teased, grinning.

 

They separated after a moment, Otabek bending down to pick up his duffle bag. He hadn’t packed much as he could only stay for a few days, so at least they were spared the hell of baggage claim. Intertwining their fingers, they began to walk out, heading to meet the cab Yuri had called to meet them.

 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Yuri gushed, looking up at his boyfriend, “How was your flight?”

 

Otabek shrugged. “It was alright, I guess. Not too bad. I wish I could stay longer, but it’s so good to see you.”

  
Preening at the attention, Yuri squeezed their hands together, just happy at the contact. Reaching the doors, they met with the cab and drove towards the apartment making happy conversation.

 

The ride was short, maybe fifteen minutes, and when they arrived, Yuri happily walked upstairs to the apartment and lead him into what still felt like _their_ room.

 

“Kobi!” Otabek squealed, walking over to pet the monstrosity on the bed, “She’s _huge._ Are you sure she’s not part panther?”

 

“No promises,” Yuri shrugged, “I bet she could eat our neighbor’s annoying chihuahua.”

 

Otabek pulled a face. “They still have that little thing? Ugh, does it ever stop barking?”

 

“Only when it’s eating or sleeping. I hate it. It’s not even a real dog,” Yuri protested, flopping onto the bed. Otabek laughed, laying down next to him.

 

The mood shifted, both of their faces a few inches apart as they lay on their backs facing one another, legs draped over the side of the bed. Yuri raised his hand and softly touched Otabek’s face, as if unsure it was really in front of him.

 

“I missed this,” he sighed, “So much.”

 

“Me too,” Otabek murmured, reaching over and lacing their fingers together. They sat in silence for a few minutes, playing with each other’s hands in silence. Yuri felt a heat tugging in his stomach, a feeling Otabek only brought out of him on the rare occasions they could be intimate together.

 

“I’ve been thinking about you since we skyped,” Yuri confessed, “Thinking about your body.”

 

Otabek made a small noise that sounded like he was choking. _“Yura.”_

 

Emboldened by the reaction, Yuri moved closer, pressing their lips together. The kiss was slow and deep, heat building between the two of them. Shifting closer, they moved so their bodies were pressed together, almost no space between them as their legs intertwined. The kiss gradually became more heated and the tug in Yuri’s stomach grew stronger.

 

_Oh._

_Shit._

_Ugh, fuck._

 

Panting, Yuri pulled away. He was loathe to end the kiss, but he was scared to push things any further, unsure of how his body would react. They hadn’t ever done anything physical together beyond makeout sessions, though Yuri knew they both wanted more. Otabek hadn’t said a word about sex as not to upset him, but Yuri knew it was a conversation they needed to have, especially given his reactions to most physical contact.

 

_Best be honest._

 

“I want you,” he murmured, tracing Otabek’s lips with his finger, “So bad, Beka.”

 

_Well, okay. I guess, very fucking honest. Fuck._

 

Otabek groaned, throwing a hand over his face. “You’re going to kill me.”

 

Yuri snuggled into his side. “We can talk about it after the competition tomorrow, okay?”

 

“Are you sure?” Otabek asked worriedly, “I don’t want to push you-”

 

“I said talk, not fuck,” Yuri interrupted crossly, causing Otabek to splutter.

 

“Jesus, Yura,” he laughed, rubbing his face, “Okay. Talking. Yes. After the competition?”

 

Yuri nodded. “After the competition.”

 

* * *

 

Yuri was a bundle of nerves.

  
This was the first event he had skated publicly since his gold win at the Grand Prix Finals, and he was _terrified._ Although the event had another name and purpose, the top three skaters would be shoe-ins for the Russian Olympic men’s skating team.

 

And he could be on that team.

 

_Oh god, what if I blow it?_

_These are the fucking Olympics, I can’t…_

_Fuck._

 

Yuuri and Otabek had secured seats close to the edge of the rink after wishing him good luck. Since they weren’t skating or coaching, they had to stay out of the locker room area. Victor was able to be with them as he had been coaching Yuri a little as well, and Yuri was grateful he had one of them for support.

 

There were ten skaters performing and Yuri had drawn the last spot, naturally. Georgi was right before him, but the other eight skaters were honestly nameless blurs to him. He felt a little bad that he didn’t know them beyond vague recognition, but he was too focused on his own nerves to worry about others.

 

When they had arrived at the rink, he was surprised to see that Phichit and Christophe were there as well, saying they were there to support team Russia. Yuri figured they had made their respective Olympic teams as well and were there to scope out the competition, but he was pleased nonetheless that they were there to support them.

 

_It’s nice that they care. Even if Chulanont is too happy and Christophe creeps me the fuck out._

 

In the hallway, Yuri tried to ignore the announcements of the other skater’s scores, Victor leaning on the wall and watching him while he stretched.

 

“You remind me of my Yuuri,” Victor confessed, “He usually wears headphones so the announcements don’t bother him.”

 

_That’s...actually a good idea. Next time._

 

Yuri said nothing outloud, just continued to stretch. He was aware of every inch of his lithe body in this costume. It was muted for the old Yuri Plisetsky, but it fit his current state of mind. Black with gold accents, it was fairly simple and understated.

 

Despite the fact that his costume was simple, it didn’t hide the lines of his body, skin-tight and see through in some places. Otabek nearly had an aneurysm when he saw Yuri wearing it at the rink. Victor had fortunately captured the moment on camera, and his boyfriend’s face was utterly priceless in it.

 

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by others, even some of the other skaters commented on it. He was uncomfortable with their glances and stares, not wanting to feel like he was on display, or…

 

_For sale?_

_Yeah, don’t think about that right now._

_Fucking hell._

 

“Hey, Victor! Yuri!” a chipper voice called, and Yuri turned to see Chulanont and Christophe walking towards him.

 

“How the hell did you get back here?” he scoffed, “Yuuri and Beka weren’t allowed.”

 

“Oh, we got _lost_ trying to find the restroom,” Phichit grinned, “And we found you instead!”

 

Christophe smiled, turning to Yuri. His eyes widened as he took in the costume.

 

“Wow, all grown up,” he said smoothly, “It seems only last year you were just a little baby bird.”

 

_Fucking disgusting. Seriously, Christophe, get a new angle._

 

“You are turning into quite the beauty, Yuri,” Christophe purred, gently taking hold of Yuri’s arm. The touch combined with the words triggered something inside of him, and a gasp escaped him while he saw Victor look over at him with concern.

 

_Fuck. No, it’s just Christophe. He’s harmless. You’re safe. Just breathe._

 

Yuri’s eyes darkened as he tried to get a hold of himself, breathing increasing. His nerves for the competition combined with the unexpected comment from Christophe were combining into one awful landslide and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold this attack back. Praying that there were no reporters around, he backed up, trying to look for somewhere to go where he could fall apart without being seen.

 

“Yuri, are you okay?” Christophe asked, coming closer _into his space_ and grabbing a hold of his shoulder.

 

 _“Don’t fucking touch me,”_ Yuri spat, trying to wrench his arm away. He felt guilty, knowing Christophe meant no harm and was just trying to be friendly, but he couldn’t help his emotions. It was as if he was back in that abandoned building, nearly a year before, being forced to…

 

_No. Fuck. No...goddamn it, why did this have to happen today? Fuck, I can’t breathe. Oh god I’m dying, I’m dying, No...I’m...having a panic attack. Okay. Fuck. Beka, Beka help me!_

 

He felt the hand on his shoulder tighten, and he _lost_ it.

 

_Get off me, get off me, I don’t want it..._

 

Flashes of memories burned through his mind and he felt as if he were back, under their hands, pinned down, and it _hurt,_ and _who was yelling?_

 

“YURI!” a panicked voice shouted in his ear, “Yuri, _stop._ ”

 

He opened his eyes, breathing hard and he realized that Victor was in front of him looking both shocked and frightened. Looking down to his leg, he saw that he had ripped part of his costume, maybe in an attempt to get away. Christophe was backed up against the opposite wall, looking horrified while Phichit eyed the scene in shock.

 

“Victor?” Yuri asked quietly, breathing hard.

 

Victor steadied his shoulders, looking him in the eye. “Yuri, I think you blacked out. Like you did back earlier in the year.”

 

The unspoken words _when you helped beat up four grown men and knocked them unconscious_ hung in the air.

 

_Oh. Oh shit._

 

Yuri swallowed, willing tears not to come to his eyes. “Did...did I hurt anyone?”

 

Victor shook his head. “No. You scared the hell out of Christophe, though.”

 

Yuri nodded in relief, sighing as Victor handed him a bottle of water. Downing it quickly, he willed himself to calm down.

 

“Yuri…” Christophe said nervously, coming up next to him, “I’m sorry…”

 

_I don’t have time for this! God, I just want to fucking skate._

_Easy, he didn’t mean any harm._

 

“It’s fine,” Yuri mumbled, getting control of his breathing, “Not your fault.”

 

An announcement blared through speakers, signaling the end of Georgi’s performance. He had scored fairly well, which Yuri noted in the back of his mind.

 

_Remember, you need to medal if you want to go to the Olympics._

_You can’t do this, you’re mess._

_Fuck off, yes I can. Okay._

 

“Yuri, your free skate is coming up soon,” Victor quaked, nervously scanning him up and down.

 

Taking a deep breath, Yuri steeled himself with determination. “I can do it.”

 

“Yurachka…”

 

“I can do it, Victor,” he affirmed, straightening himself up, “I have to.”

 

Victor nodded, stepping to the side and allowing Yuri to walk past. He ignored the stares from Christophe and Phichit and headed out towards the rink. He supposed he was kind of being an asshole, but he didn't much care at the moment.

 

His heart skipped a beat as the crowd roared at his appearance. Yakov was there, frowning at the small tear in the leg of his costume, but he said nothing about it. Prepping for his performance, Yuri took a deep breath and stepped onto the ice.

 

_I can do this._

_What was it Katsudon kept saying? Routine components. Focus on them._

 

Taking a deep breath, he took his beginning position, heart thudding in his chest.

 

_I wonder if Victor told Otabek._

_Shit, no. Focus._

_Breathe._

_There’s the music._

 

The soft opening melodic line began and he stepped off into his first movement. He supposed it was a little cliche that he was skating to _Swan Lake_ , but the theme held a lot of meaning for him. When asked about it, he was never honest, but he knew that those closest to him recognized the significance of the music selection.

 

_Mama, Papa. I wish you were here to watch me._

_Waltz jump._

_Fucking Christophe._

_Spin._

_Arms out._

_Grandpa._

_I wish everything wasn’t so fucked up._

_Quad sal? Quad...flip? Fuck, oh no, I don’t remember…_

 

The _thud_ of his body slamming into the ice brought him back to reality, the disappointed groans from the crowd filling his ears. Getting up quickly, he focused solely on the technical components, not allowing himself to be distracted again.

 

He managed to skate the rest of his routine nearly technically perfectly. However, he knew Yakov would have something to say about the lack of emotion in his performance. The fire was gone. Passionless.

 

_Come on. Focus.  
_

_Sit spin._

_Final position._

 

The thunderous applause from the audience broke him out of his position and he managed kind of a weak wave before skating off the ice. Figuring he should head to the kiss and cry, he took his skate guards wordlessly from Yakov.

 

“That was excellent,” Yakov began, “Other than the fall, your technical ratings will be very high.”

 

_Great._

 

Sitting on the bench, he waited to receive his score. Being the last to skate, he figured that he should be more nervous about receiving his results, knowing this could make or break his skating career this season. A few moments passed and excited cheering exploded around him as his score was announced.

 

“Yurachka, you did it,” Yakov breathed excitedly, “You placed second! You’re on the team!”

 

_Holy fuck._

_I’m...going to the Olympics._

_I am going to skate in the Olympics for Russia in PyeongChang._

_I...I actually did it. Despite everything._

 

Looking up, he picked out Otabek’s face in the crowd, beaming at him and cheering. A warmth filled him and Yuri closed his eyes happily, a proud smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My working chapter title for this was “Christophe Says Something Sexually Stupid.” I just felt the need to share that with you.


	4. Do I Run or Let it Be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful comments! You are all amazing!

“To the Olympics!” Phichit cheered, raising his glass. They all followed suite, laughing happily as they toasted one another’s success. After the Russian trials were over and interviews and photographs were given, the whole lot of them had headed out to downtown St. Petersburg, ready to celebrate.

 

Yuuri and Victor were side by side at the table in the little cafe, both a little red in the face from drinks, giggling happily. Georgi and Mila were bantering good naturedly at one end of the table, while Phichit was snapping photos of everything and laughing along with Yuuri. Yuri’s body thrummed with happiness and exhaustion as a proud Otabek sent him a soft smile from across the table.

 

_I feel like we have so much to catch up on. But now I guess we should be celebrating, not hashing out my problems._

 

Christophe had been unusually subdued, Victor shooting him the occasional glance. Yuri knew that he and Phichit both must be curious about his episode before his program, but he was relieved when no one asked him about it.

 

_None of their business anyway._

 

Yuri glanced up as he heard Victor giggle, leaning over to kiss Yuuri’s cheek.

 

_They are so gross._

 

“Yuuri,” Victor cooed, drawing out the ‘u’ in his name, “You are so cute.”

 

Yuuri returned the comment with a dopey, lovesick expression, and Yuri felt like throwing up.

 

_Ugh, it's like watching my parents make out._

 

He noted that Phichit was filming the whole scene.

 

“Stop being gross!” Yuri called out, “Some of us want to eat without puking.”

 

Victor smiled devilishly, leaning over and kissing Yuuri’s cheek again. “Sorry, my love, we have to stop. We are upsetting the child.”

 

“Fuck off!” Yuri called as the rest of the table laughed, “I have to _live_ with you two, remember?”

 

“Yes, we love our small Russian son!” Victor said cheerfully, hanging off of Yuuri's neck.

 

“I AM NOT YOUR SON!”

 

The table broke out into laughter and even Yuri joined in once he saw how hard his boyfriend was laughing. Standing up, he walked over and parked himself next to Otabek, swinging his legs over on his lap.

 

Otabek smiled, resting a comfortable hand on Yuri’s knee.

 

“Aw!” Phichit cooed, “Smile for the camera!”

 

Yuri scowled, but Otabek laughed, and the resulting picture was actually pretty adorable, Yuri thought. Phichit uploaded it happily, tagging it with all sorts of gross lovey-dovey hashtags.

 

Throughout the night, Yuri had noticed Christophe trying to catch his eye, but he couldn't really be bothered. He had no interest in explaining himself to the Swiss skater, simply wanting to forget that the incident ever happened.

 

“So, who else made the Olympic teams?” Georgi asked, “Anyone we know?”

 

“Guang-Hong Ji is skating for China,” Phichit chimed in, “And I know JJ made it for Canada.”

 

_JJ? Damn. Well, it’ll be fun to beat him, at least._

 

“Well when Yuuri wins gold, you’re all invited to the wedding,” Victor grinned, earning eye rolls and groans from the others.

 

_Honestly, I just want to place in the top five. I don’t really think I have much of a chance of medaling this year. I can barely hold myself up for long enough to skate my routines._

 

“Hey, everyone, we should take a selfie!” Phichit called out, breaking Yuri from his thoughts, “Hashtag, Olympics here we come!”

 

Directing everyone to one side of the table, Phichit charmed their waiter into snapping the picture. Victor and Yuuri were both giving the peace sign, Victor kissing Yuuri on the cheek. Georgi and Mila were crowded in near Christophe and Phichit, all smiles. Otabek had an arm around Yuri, smiling at the camera. Yuri was scowling, but he gave a thumbs up.

 

The post went viral within minutes.

 

A warmth spread through Yuri as he snuggled into Otabek, bantering playfully with Victor and Yuuri. He felt safe, accepted. Proud, even.

 

Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

 

As the evening wore on, eventually the exhaustion from the day began to take it’s toll. Yuri kept zoning out, eyes glazing over every few minutes.

 

“Yura,” Otabek murmured, “Want to head back? You look exhausted.”

 

Yawning, Yuri nodded. “Yeah...back to the apartment?”

 

They bid their goodbyes and set some money on the table, hailing a cab and heading back to the apartment. Yuri spent the ride holding Otabek’s hand and resting his head on his shoulder, dozing. After a while, he felt a gentle shake to his shoulder.

 

“Hey, Yura, we’re home,” Otabek said softly, “Ready to go up?”

 

Yuri yawned, stretching. They paid the cab driver, walking up to the apartment. Once they entered, Otabek set down the keys and locked the door. Yuri headed to the bathroom, taking a nice hot shower. After he was finished, he changed into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. Walking out of the bathroom he headed into his bedroom, smiling softly as he saw Otabek lying in the bed, scrolling through his phone, shirtless and in loose pajama pants.

 

“Hey,” Yuri said quietly, drinking in the sight of his boyfriend. He cherished the sight, knowing that Otabek would only be in Russia for a few more days.

 

“Hey,” Otabek murmured, putting down his phone and holding out his arms. Yuri climbed into the bed happily, melting into the awaiting embrace.

 

"I was so proud of you today," Otabek said softly, "You were incredible."

 

Yuri preened at the praise. "Thanks. Did Victor tell you what happened with Christophe?"

 

"Yeah," Otabek nodded softly, "He said it was an accident. Are you okay?"

 

Yuri nodded. "Yes. I don't know if Christophe is, though."

 

They held each other quietly for a long time, just enjoying the peace and quiet in each other’s company. Yuri’s mind flashed back to their conversation the day before and he felt a surge of nervous heat low in his belly as the mood shifted.

 

“Beka…” he began, rolling over so they were laying face to face, “I want...to try things with you.”

 

Otabek quirked an eyebrow, but his eyes darkened a little, sensing the shift in the mood.

 

“Yeah?” he breathed, “Like what?”

 

Yuri looked him in the eye, moving a hand to run through Otabek’s hair. “Everything.”

 

“Everything meaning…”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes, tired of being treated like he was fragile. “I want to have sex with you.”

 

Otabek coughed, spluttering as his face turned bright red. “You can't just say things like that!”

 

“You like it,” Yuri grinned and his boyfriend groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes.

 

“Shit,” Otabek groaned, “Yura…”

 

Yuri was a little unsure of how his body would react physically to sex, as they hadn’t tried being intimate in months. The last time had resulted in a full-blown panic attack and neither of them were in the mood to repeat that. Despite everything, Yuri knew that he _wanted_.

  
God, did he want.

 

“I do too,” Otabek rushed out, blushing, “But I haven’t...I mean, I’ve never…”

 

_Oh._

_Really?_

_Wow._

 

Yuri was surprised, but he tried not to let it show. “I guess, I mean I haven’t either. At least, not on my own terms.”

 

Otabek swallowed and his eyes flashed with hurt. Yuri felt a twinge of guilt for bringing up his assault, knowing that it really darkened the mood. However, he also knew it was something they needed to talk about if they were ever to go beyond kissing and cuddling.

 

“I don’t know if I’m ready to have sex right now,” Otabek blurted out, blushing harder, “But...soon?”

 

Yuri’s heart swelled with fondness. He had imagined this situation a thousand times, and never once had he thought Otabek would be the vulnerable one. Feeling a surge of protectiveness, Yuri intertwined their fingers.

 

“Yeah. Soon. Maybe...we could start with...um...making out? But, with less clothes?” Yuri said, feeling a little nervous himself. Otabek’s eyes grew darker and widened, but he nodded in agreement.

 

“Yeah. _Yeah._ That’s...yeah,” he blushed, squeezing Yuri’s hand.

 

Otabek was already shirtless, so Yuri took the opportunity to take off his own shirt, tossing it lazily on the floor. It wasn’t the first time they had seen each other shirtless, in fact they had seen each other almost naked plenty of times in the locker room, but the atmosphere was different and the sight of both of their bare chests set a fire in Yuri.

 

“Should we have a safe word?” Otabek asked after a moment, “In case either of us get uncomfortable?”

 

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Is this fucking fifty shades of grey? How about we just say _stop_?”

 

“I don't think they actually use safe words in fifty shades,” Otabek smirked in spite of himself, “Wasn't that why it got such mixed reviews?”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes again. “Less talking. More kissing.”

 

Otabek smiled, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Yuri’s softly. Opening his mouth to allow Otabek entrance, Yuri moaned as their tongues began to move against each other.

 

“You’re so addictive,” Otabek panted, pulling away for air, eyes growing dark. Yuri felt a surge of heat rush through him at the words, moving closer and grinding their hips together.

 

“Yeah?” he breathed into his boyfriend’s ear, “You like it.”

 

Otabek groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. “Fucking hell, Yura.”

 

The kiss deepened, their chests pressed together. Yuri shifted so he was over top of Otabek, holding hands and hovering over him. Yuri ached to press closer, but after Otabek’s confession he was afraid to make the first move.

 

“Yura…” Otabek groaned, “Can we…get closer?”

 

“Fuck yes,” Yuri breathed and Otabek surged up, their hips pressing together. Yuri threw his head back at the sudden rush of sensation. Falling forward, he continued pressing their hips together, grip tightening on Otabek’s hands.

 

Otabek surged up, pulling Yuri down on top of him. Their legs tangled together, rolling on the bed so Otabek was over top of him.

 

“Is this okay?” Otabek gasped, eyes nearly black with desire.

 

“Yes, _Yes,_ ” Yuri moaned. Otabek leaned down, kissing him passionately. Yuri loved it, loved the feeling of their bodies connecting. Yuri felt himself beginning to get excited, pressing into Otabek hungrily.

 

There was only a thin layer of sweatpants between the pair of them and Yuri could _feel_ Otabek’s hardness pressing into his leg. Desire burned through him, pressing their bodies closer.

 

“Fuck, fuck, yes,” Yuri moaned, “More.”

Otabek complied, flushing their bodies together, pressing forward. Yuri felt himself getting hard and he leaned forward…

 

_Wait._

_This doesn’t feel right._

_“H-he’s making me c-come and I don’t want, I don’t want it_ _…”_

 

Yuri pushed Otabek off with all the force he could muster.

 

“Stop!” he gasped, “Stop, stop, _stop_.”

 

Otabek stopped instantly, making sure he wasn’t touching Yuri at all. Yuri threw a hand over his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths to calm down. For the first time, he wondered what it would be like to take his meds.

 

_Maybe it would stop me from panicking like this._

 

“Yura?” Otabek asked after a moment.

 

_God, he sounds so sad._

 

“I’m okay,” he rasped out, “I just...it took me by surprise. Fuck, I hate this.”

 

Otabek shifted, being very careful not to touch him. “Can...can I hold you?”

 

Yuri nodded, letting himself be taken innocently in his boyfriend’s arms.

 

_Fuck, I feel like shit. I hate this._

 

“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” Otabek sighed softly, “It’s _okay_ to need more time to heal.”

 

Yuri’s lip trembled, tears threatening to fall,  “But I _want_ to be ready.”

 

Otabek kissed him softly on the forehead, careful not to press their bodies together. “We’ll figure it out, okay, Yura?”

 

Yuri nodded, hiding his embarrassed face into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Can we still kiss, at least?”

 

“Yeah, kissing is good,” Otabek murmured, pressing his lips gently to Yuri’s cheek. They held each other for a long time, kissing lazily. After a while, Yuri pulled away, snuggling against Otabek’s chest. He was tired and he knew Yuuri and Victor would be home soon. Otabek held him gently, their breathing slowing down, both beginning to drift to sleep.

 

_There’s something I forgot to say. Uh...what was it? Oh, yeah._

 

“Beka, my nightmares…” Yuri said sleepily, “They’re intense.”

 

Otabek leaned over, looking at him with his full attention. “How so?”

 

“They’re just...really vivid. Sometimes I feel like I’m choking, or drowning. I…” he trailed off, not wanting to admit how weak they made him feel.

 

His boyfriend frowned, looking at him with sad eyes. “Do Victor and Yuuri know?”

 

_Fuck, do they ever._

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Victor usually...holds me down.”

 

“Holds you down?” Otabek inquired, voice rising, “Like...physically?”

 

Nodding, Yuri continued. “Yeah, it helps. It makes it feel more real when I come out of a dream. Katsudon usually puts on some calming music or some shit and they sit with me until I come out of it.”

 

Otabek looked towards the door, eyes softening. “They do all of that?”

 

Swallowing hard, Yuri was reminded just how indebted he was to his roommates. “Yeah...they do.”

 

“So these nightmares…” Otabek began in trepidation, “What usually happens in them?”

 

Yuri shrugged. “They’re all different. It’s usually a memory, but sometimes its more abstract. Those are scarier because I don’t know what’s going to happen in them.”

 

“That makes sense,” Otabek sighed, “I hate that you have to deal with this.”

 

_Me too. But there’s no point in bemoaning it. It is what it is._

 

“So do I. But, I do. So...basically, sorry if I like...kick you off the bed, or something,” Yuri laughed nervously, not wanting to betray how insecure he was really feeling.

 

Otabek smiled warmly. “I’m tough, I think I can take a kick from you.”

 

“Shut up,” Yuri grumbled, curling into his side, “Just for that, I’m stealing the good blanket tonight.”

 

Otabek smirked. “Fine, I guess I’ll just have to use you as a space heater, then.”

 

Grumpily, Yuri tucked his head under his boyfriend’s chin, relishing in the warmth of his skin and comforted by the sound of his heartbeat.

 

“Night Yura,” Otabek murmured sleepily, running a lazy hand down Yuri’s back. Yuri nearly purred at the soothing sensation. Otabek’s hand eventually moved to rest gently on the small of Yuri’s back and they fell asleep tangled together, happy, warm, and content.

  
For once, Yuri didn’t dream at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hope was to show that Yuri still has a lot of healing to do, but he is now able to recognize when he is panicking and speak up for himself, something he learned in therapy.
> 
> Also, regarding the safe word part in this chapter: SAFE WORDS ARE IMPORTANT. I just felt that what Yuri said was an in-character reaction for him. I just wanted to clarify that they _are_ important and I don't mean to make it out like they're not.


	5. Every Burden, Every Disadvantage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic Attacks, Anxiety, PTSD, talking of medication/drug testing

Otabek left for Kazakhstan and the world seemed a little duller.

 

Yuri's days went by much the same as they had before he had made the Olympic team. The only difference was Yakov pushed him twice as hard during practice, so he had nearly no time to himself.

 

 _Being an Olympian isn’t as glamorous as I imagined_.

 

Wincing after practice, he rubbed his blistered feet. He was grateful that Yakov had allowed him to stop several hours early so he could make a therapy session. Yuri had been debating for several weeks after Otabek’s departure as to whether or not he would try medication again. He had been speaking about it a lot with his therapist and while he still loathed the idea, he felt that he may need to give it another shot. Barely able to keep up in practice due to days of overwhelming exhaustion and anxiety, Yakov had shouted at him more than a few times.

 

“This isn’t how an Olympic athlete behaves!” he would bark. Yuri felt a sting of anger each time, but as Yakov didn’t know the full extent of his issues, he really couldn’t blame him for being a little harsh. Yuuri and Victor were very supportive, but Yuri still felt that he needed additional help.

 

Pulling on his shoes, he headed out to the car. Victor was giving Yuuri the afternoon off in order to drive Yuri to his appointment, which he felt a little guilty for. Yuuri, however, was _loving_ the time off, gushing about all the relaxing things he was going to do at home.

 

“Ready to go?” Victor asked him cheerfully. Nodding, Yuri picked up his bag and followed the older skater out of the rink. Victor didn’t push him to talk, knowing that Yuri got very stoic before meeting with his therapist. It took all of his energy to talk with her; he didn’t want to use energy by getting riled up with conversation.

 

The drove in silence, eventually pulling into the building where his therapist worked.

 

“I’ll pick you up in a hour, okay?” Victor asked.

 

Yuri nodded curtly. “Okay. Thanks, Victor.”

 

Victor smiled warmly and nodded back, Yuri closing the door and heading up to her office. He was pleased to see that the waiting room was empty, just some old magazines and decrepit children’s toys. After a short while, a nurse came to get him and he headed into the familiar office of his therapist. His appointment went well, talking about the latest issues he had been having. Waiting until the last possible moment, towards the end of the appointment, he finally brought up the medication.

 

“I want to try the meds again,” he admitted, gut clenching at the words.

 

His therapist looked surprised, but not unhappy. “I’m glad to hear that, Yuri. We’ll start you on small doses of both Prozac and Xanax like before. Remember, the combination can make you very tired, so don’t do anything too strenuous for a few days.”

 

_Oh, you mean like train for the Olympics?_

_She must be crazy if she thinks Yakov will let me have one day off, let alone a few._

 

Yuri's mind drifted through her description of the meds, trying to nod when he thought it was appropriate. Eventually, walking out with a prescription, he headed over to the pharmacy which was very fortunately in the same building. Picking up his meds, he stared at the orange bottles in trepidation.

 

_Well, here we go again._

 

* * *

 

Two days after starting his meds, Yuri felt like he was on top of the world. He had energy, he could focus, and he wasn’t having nightmares. He even got some of his snark back during practice, able to joke around with the others like he used to.

 

Three days after starting his meds, Yuri crashed. He crashed so hard that he had to miss an entire day of practice. He called his doctor in a sleepy panic, and they worked to change his dosage.

 

A week after adjusting his dosage, Yuri had one of the worst panic attacks he had ever endured. A horrible nightmare threw him into sleep paralysis, causing him to wake up with a scream. Unable to slow his breathing, It took Victor and Yuuri a solid thirty minutes to calm him down. They almost had to drive him to the hospital, but he was able to eventually calm enough to go back to sleep. The next day, he visited his doctor and they adjusted his levels again.

 

Nearly a month after being on both medications, Yuri finally felt a semblance of peace. He was able to focus, sleep through the night dreamlessly, and avoid panic attacks. His anxiety was under control and he was being very productive during practice. Despite the successes, Yuri still hated being on medication. A kind of emptiness wallowed inside of him, a numbness he couldn't fix. Knowing that the meds were helping him in the long run, he voiced his concerns to his therapist and pressed on. His only major concern now was the periodic drug testing that all competitive athletes, especially Olympians, had to go through.

 

His first drug test was a strange experience. He wasn’t sure how his medications would be handled, but the person he spoke to said that both of his meds were approved substances, so he would be fine to skate. Relieved to have gotten the process over with, Yuri threw himself back into skating, thinking no more about it. Continuing to take his meds faithfully, he gave Otabek updates on how they were working. Supportive and loving, his boyfriend listened and gave him whatever he needed.

 

_I’m still not sure how I landed someone as fucking amazing as him._

 

Weeks turned to a month and Yuri was back in the swing of practice, medication focusing and grounding him. Victor and Yuuri were excited because it was nearly his birthday. Victor had been driving him nuts by singing, _“You are sixteen, going on seventeen…”_ nearly every time he saw him.

 

“The hills are going to be alive with the sound of your fucking screams if you _don’t stop!_ ” he shouted one night when Victor sang the stupid song for the tenth time, causing Yuuri to laugh so hard he shot tea out of his nose.

 

The day of his birthday, Yuri was sitting alone in the apartment, casually scrolling through his laptop. Victor and Yuuri were finishing up some last minute training at the rink, ready to come home and celebrate with him. Kobi and Makkachin were settled near him and he was having a flirty text conversation with Otabek. Bored and curious as to what the latest news was on the Olympic front, Yuri went to the PyeongChang games homepage, mouth dropping as he saw the first article.

 

**Hackers Post Russian Olympian's Drug Test Results Online**

 

_What the fuck is this?_

 

Clicking on the link, his mouth dropped open in horror as he began to read.

 

**Due in part to the 2016 Russian doping scandal, controversy has risen over Russia’s participation in the 2018 Olympic Games. Many countries have protested Russia’s involvement and resentment has risen in parts of the international community. Following an interview given by President Putin on Tuesday, hackers subsequently broke into a private database and posted the drug test results of all the Russian athletes.**

 

Yuri stopped reading.

 

_Fuck._

_No._

 

He quickly exited the article and did a search, almost instantly finding what he was looking for. Sickened by the number of websites that had shared his teammates’ personal information, he clicked on a likely looking website.

 

There was a link to a page that listed every single Russian Olympic athlete and the results of their drug tests. Yuri remembered being outraged when this happened to several athletes during the Olympics in Rio, but he never imagined it happening to him.

 

Trying not to read anyone else's information, he searched for his name.

 

_Please don't be there. Please don't be there._

 

It was there.

 

 **NAME:** PLISETSKY, YURI

 **AGE:** 16

 **COUNTRY:** RUSSIA

 **EVENT(S):** MEN’S SINGLES: FIGURE SKATING.

**TEST RESULTS:**

  1. _Fluoxetine_ (SSRI). 20 mg. **CLEARED SUBSTANCE.** Approved by physician: required for treatment of Depression.
  2. _Alprazolam_ (Benzodiazepine). 0.25mg. **CLEARED SUBSTANCE.** Approved by physician: required for treatment of Panic Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).



 

Yuri sat still, unable to move for a moment.  
 

He felt sick.

 

_No._

_Everyone...knows now._

_The entire world._

_Holy._ _  
_ _Fuck._

 

His phone began to buzz and he absentmindedly picked it up, brain still numb with shock. His phone was lighting up with notifications on all of his social media, from fans that had seen the article. His eyes swept over them quickly, panic beginning to truly rise inside of him. The bombardment was happening on all of his social media, and he was unable to stand it. He quickly opened his Twitter, heading to his settings. Typing furiously, he deleted his account without a second thought. Moving onto his rarely used Facebook page, he deleted that next. Snapchat was the next to go.

 

He saved instagram for last, as it was the only one he really used frequently. He noticed that he had several comments on some of his photos from fans, some supporting him, outraged, and some questioning what had happened to him. Swallowing his anger and hurt, he moved to make his account private so no one else could comment. He liked the pictures on his page too much to want them deleted.

 

Accounts now private or deleted, Yuri gave in a little to his panic. It was as if every single one of his very worst nightmares had come true. Questions and fear swirled in his mind, unable to stomach the thought of his secrets out in the open. Yuri felt the familiar heat of panic clawing at his throat. Beginning to shake, he pressed his head into his knees, gripping his arms tightly.

 

 _Now_ **_everyone_ ** _fucking knows._

 

His chest constricted as he found it harder to breathe. His phone still lay next to him, buzzing frequently. It made him feel uneasy, as if the whole world was knocking at his door, determined to know the why’s of his diagnoses.

 

After a few long minutes, he heard the distinct sound of the door being thrown open and lots of commotion and voices.

 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YURI!”

 

_Oh, shit._

_I forgot what day it was._

_Sixteen, going on seventeen._

_Not anymore._

_Happy fucking birthday to me._

 

He didn’t dare look up from his knees, unable to face who might be in the apartment right now, knowing it was more than just Victor and Yuuri. He gripped himself more tightly, trying to stop himself from hyperventilating, sensing the mood shift in the room from excitement to trepidation.

 

“Yurio...what’s wrong?”

 

It was Victor’s worried voice that cut through first and he felt a dip in the couch as someone sat down next to him.

 

“Hey, is he okay?” another worried voice came from the kitchen, quickly being shushed by someone else.

 

 _Fucking hell, is_ **_everyone_ ** _here? Jesus christ, of course they are. Just my damn luck._

 

“Yuri, look at me,” Victor said, sounding more nervous.

 

Yuri rarely ignored him and Yuuri anymore, trusting them implicitly with his secrets. However, with more people in the apartment he just couldn’t stomach the thought of looking up. Shame burned through him like a wildfire, knowing that in only moments, all of his darkest secrets would be out in the open.

 

“Oh my _god,_ ” Yuuri gasped in horror, noticing the open laptop, “Victor, _look_ at this.”

 

_No. No, no, please don’t show him._

 

Yuri gripped himself more tightly, rocking a little, as he heard the clicking of the keyboard and a gasp from Victor.

 

“What?” Victor snarled, outraged, “This is...how _could_ they? The whole team?”

 

Yuri nodded, head still buried in his arms.

 

“This...this is horrible,” Yuuri whispered from somewhere to his right. Yuri gripped his arms tightly.

 

“Hey, Yurio, let’s get you somewhere quiet, okay?” Victor asked softly.

 

Yuri curled in on himself, unwilling to unbind his body and move. He didn’t have the courage to see who was watching him fall apart.

 

“What is going on?”

 

_Georgi._

_Oh, no. Your information is there, too!_

 

“I don’t know.”

 

_Mila._

_Hag. This is so embarrassing._

 

“Guys, please,” Yuuri admonished softly, “Not now.”

 

_Stop trying to protect me._

_There isn’t anything left to protect anymore._

 

Feeling rage bubbling inside him, he finally raised his eyes up, seeing _everyone_ in the kitchen. Mila and Georgi were silent, but looked horrified. Georgi was looking at his phone, eyes narrowing in fury as he saw his own personal information leaked on the internet.

 

Yuri noticed that there were balloons and a cake in the kitchen and his stomach clenched when he remembered that it was his _goddamn birthday._

 

For some reason, that was the kicker.

 

A switch was flipped.

 

Standing up, he balled his fists at his side before exhaling quickly.

 

“Yuri, what is it?” Victor asked worriedly.

 

_Fucking. Dammit._

 

“EVERYONE KNOWS!” Yuri screamed out of the blue, tears rolling down his cheeks, “IT DOESN’T FUCKING _MATTER_ ANYMORE!”

 

The other stared at him in shock. He knew he was unraveling, but a storm of emotion rushed through him. He remembered his therapist telling him about different stages in the grieving process, and Yuri wondered vaguely if this was him transitioning back into anger.

 

_I thought I got past this already._

 

“Yuri…” Mila quaked, looking both sad and scared, “What are you…”

 

“NO!” Yuri interrupted, pounding his fist on the counter. “Who the fuck cares now? Everyone knows I'm fucked up. How long before someone tells the truth? How long before they post an article about how I got _raped?”_

 

He heard someone gasp at that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Shaking with fury, the walls seemed to close in on him, pressing in closer and closer, making him gasp.

 

“Breathe, Yuri.”

 

_Katsudon._

_No. This isn’t a fucking exercise in anxiety control._

_I get to throw a fucking tantrum if I want to._

_Just...let me!_

 

The room was silent now, heavy with uncertainty and awkwardness. Yuri honestly didn’t know why he was having this outburst here, especially in front of people he wasn’t that close with.

 

“Yuri,” Yuuri murmured softly, “We should get you into the bedroom, okay? You might regret some of the things you’re saying later.”

 

_I know he’s right but…_

_God, it feels good to scream._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So I was inspired by the 2016 Rio games when this happened to some of the athletes. It didn't seem too far a jump for this fic, especially because people IRL right now are saying Russia shouldn't be competing due to their doping scandal from 2016. I think it's so shitty to do this to anyone, and if I were in those athlete's places, I would be so unbelievably furious and hurt.
> 
> As for the medication in this chapter: While I have personally never taken Xanax or Prozac, I did a lot of research and spoke to friends that do. Some of you have also left comments on this story regarding your own personal experiences with mental health/medication, which educated me a lot. That being said, if you feel something is inaccurate or not portrayed well, please let me know. I wrote everything with the greatest respect in mind.


	6. But My Mind is Older

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! Your comments are incredible. Thank you!

Yuri had always been a master eavesdropper.

 

It came from when he was small and listening to his parents fight. It evolved when he had lived on the streets for a time, having to keep an ear out for danger. Sometimes he felt badly when eavesdropping on his friends, but the apartment was small and his curiosity large.

 

Especially when they were talking about him.

 

After his outburst, Victor had managed to calm him down enough to get him to his bedroom. Emotionally exhausted, Yuri had crashed almost instantly, after Victor had sadly wished him a happy birthday one final time. 

 

It was now several hours later and Yuri could hear a quiet, but heated conversation coming from the kitchen. Straining his ears, he caught every word.

 

“I just can’t  _ believe _ it,” Victor was saying, for what sounded like the thousandth time, “Who would do something like this?”

 

“Someone who hates the Russian government enough to take it out on the whole team,” Mila said sadly. Someone, Georgi maybe, hummed in agreement.

 

“At least there wasn’t too much on there,” Victor murmured, “I mean, mostly everyone was completely clean. The only person caught doping was a skier.”

 

“The media is making a big deal about Yuri,” Yuuri said softly, “He had by far the most medications and his conditions are the most serious. There are a lot of articles going up about it, especially since he took down his social media. His fans are  _ losing _ it.”

 

_ Well, fuck. Of course. Of course it would be me that has it the worst. I’m  _ **_so_ ** _ fucking surprised. _

 

There was the sound of typing and Victor murmuring something too quietly for Yuri to make out. 

 

“Hey...what did Yuri mean before?” Mila asked suddenly, “When he was yelling? He said he was…”

 

“It’s his business,” Victor cut in curtly, “We’re not going to talk about it now.”

 

_ Thank you, Victor. _

 

“I’m sorry, we don’t mean to pry,” Georgi interceded, “But we’re just concerned. He is a fellow teammate, after all.”

 

Yuuri sighed heavily. “We’re not going to talk about that, but since you know about his diagnoses now...I know what he’s going through. I have anxiety, too, although I’ve had mine for longer, so I have a lot more coping strategies.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Victor said sadly, “In all the commotion...I haven’t asked you about how you’re doing with all of this.”

 

_ What? Doing with what? _

 

“It’s hard watching him struggle,” Yuuri whispered after a moment, “It’s like watching myself ten years ago. Although, he’s having a  _ much _ harder time than I did. I wish I could do more for him and it kills me that I can’t. I just wish he knew that we were here for him.”

 

_ Shit. Katsudon… _

 

“Yuuri, you do so much,” Victor rushed, “Think of all the times you helped him. You stayed in Russia for him. He knows.”

 

_ Yeah, I do. Fuck. I really need to like...get him a card, or something. _

 

“You do a lot, too,” Yuuri murmured, “And I know he feels the same about you.”

 

_ Ugh, as much as I hate to admit it, I do. _

_ I’m never saying that out loud, though. _

 

“Hey, has someone called Otabek yet?” Mila called out, sounding as if she had moved to the living room, “Yuri’s phone has like fifteen missed calls…”

 

_ FUCK. _

_ I cannot believe I forgot to call him, holy shit. I’m being so selfish. _

_ But I can’t get up now, they’ll know I’ve been listening... _

 

“I’ll call him now,” Victor affirmed and there was a pause while he dialed the number. 

 

_ “Hello? Victor?” _ came Otabek’s voice, sounding scratchy through the speakerphone.

 

“Otabek,” Victor said, “You’ve got me, my Yuuri, Georgi, and Mila.”

 

_ “How is he?” _

 

Otabek’s question filled Yuri’s heart with love, guilt, and a little sadness. It was so abrupt and left a lot of things unasked, but the implication in the question was understood by everyone.

 

“Asleep,” Yuuri said next, “He...kind of had a bit of a meltdown.”

 

_ “Do you...think I should fly out? My coach would kill me, but everyone on my team is just so mad on Russia’s behalf, I think my rinkmates would back me up.” _

 

There was a pause. 

 

“I honestly don’t know,” Victor murmured, “I don’t know what he needs right now. He’s pretty shaken up, but we all are. Yakov’s calling a team meeting tomorrow, all the Russian coaches are. Trying to come up with press statements.”

 

_ “Is anyone else...is anyone else in Yuri’s situation?” _

 

“No,” came Yuuri’s voice, “There was one skier caught doping, but other than that everyone was clean. There were some other athletes on prescribed medications, but no one had conditions as serious as his.”

 

_ “Jesus,” _ Otabek sighed sadly,  _ “On his birthday, too. Why...why does everything have to happen to him all the time? Just for once, I wish it could be me.” _

 

Victor and the others quickly chimed in, telling Otabek that he shouldn’t think that way, while Yuri curled in on himself.

 

_ Fuck, Beka. I’m glad it’s never you. If the world wants to shit on me, that’s fine, but I’m glad it’s not on you. _

 

“Otabek, I think you should call him tomorrow. Then decide if you’re going to fly out. Give him the night to calm down,” Victor stated, “He may be better tomorrow.”

 

_ “Okay. Will you let him know I called, please?” _

 

“Of course. Hang in there,” Yuuri said and they all said their goodbyes before hanging up.

 

_ Well, that could have gone worse. _

 

Drifting off to sleep, Yuri tried to remain calm in order to keep his mind at ease.

 

In the morning, the first thing Yuri did after taking his medication was call his grandfather. They hadn’t spoken since his qualifications for the Olympics. He had been neglecting staying in touch since, not wanting to admit how poorly he was doing emotionally. Also, every time he talked to his grandfather, he felt a guilty ache to see his mother, and he knew that was a horrible idea. He hadn’t spoken to her since her arrest and he was scared to begin now.

 

_ “Yurachka!” _ his grandpa called over the phone,  _ “Oh, Yurachka, I was so worried.” _

 

“I’m sorry, grandpa,” Yuri murmured, “Did you see? What they posted about us?”

 

His grandpa sighed sadly.  _ “Yes. I am so sorry. How you doing?” _

 

“I’m fine,” he lied, glazing past it, “I mostly just wanted to check on you. Are they treating you okay?”

 

_ “Yes. I miss cooking, but other than that, things are nice here. Have you spoken with your mother recently?” _

 

And there it was.

 

“No,” Yuri said harshly, “Grandpa, no.”

 

_ “Yurachka…” _

 

“I can’t. Please, grandpa.”

 

_ “Alright, I understand. You hang in there, okay?” _

 

“I will. Love you,  _ dedushka.” _

 

“I love you too, Yurachka.”

 

The brief conversation left Yuri feeling strangely empty. He had been so cut off from his family lately, so cut off from any semblance of his childhood that he had almost forgotten his old feelings of regret and bitterness towards his former life. Shaking out of his dark thoughts, he made a mental note to bring it up in his next therapy session, and he shifted his thoughts to his boyfriend.

 

_ Compartmentalization. I can do that. _

 

He hovered over Otabek’s name on his phone, but he didn’t press ‘call.’

 

_ What...why don’t I want to call him? Ugh, I know I’m feeling something right now but I don’t fucking know what it is. I hate it when this happens. Okay...am I mad at him? No. Am I...guilty? Not about anything he doesn’t know. Fuck...am I scared? Maybe, but I don’t know why. Damn. Okay, I’ll call him later. _

 

Checking his email, he saw that Yakov had indeed called a team meeting with the other skating coaches. All the men’s and women’s single skaters would be there, as well as the pair teams and coaches. The emphasis on the meeting was supposed to be on ‘unity’ and ‘facing the press.’ Yuri had an uncomfortable premonition that he would somehow be called out. 

 

He eyed the familiar Team Kazakhstan jacket hanging on the back of his door. Sighing heavily, he reached for it, burying his face in the fabric and inhaling. It was a little creepy, sure, but it made him feel secure. Pulling it on, he flushed when he saw the large “ALTIN” on the back reflected in the mirror on the wall.

 

_ Damn. Beka, I’m sorry. I love you. I just have to sort through what I’m feeling before we talk. _

 

Grabbing his skating bag, he walked out into the living room where he saw Yuuri hastily making breakfast in the kitchen. His stomach clenched with something like  _ fondness _ as he remembered what the older skater had said the night before.

 

“Yurio!” Yuuri called happily, seeing him out of bed, “It’s good to see you up. Hungry?”

 

Yuri nodded, sitting down at the table. “Sorry, for, uh...last night…” he said awkwardly.

 

Smiling, Yuuri set a full plate down in front of him. “Yuri, we’re long past apologies for emotional outbursts. Both you  _ and _ me.” 

 

_ Yeah, that’s true. _

 

Yuri shoveled the food into his mouth, waiting anxiously for Victor to get up. 

 

_ Come on you lazy ass...aren’t you coming to this meeting, too? _

 

“Yuuri!” Victor called from the bedroom, “Have you seen my shoes? The brown ones?”

 

“Under the bed!” Yuuri called, setting a plate down for Victor before pulling up a chair himself and joining Yuri at the breakfast table. Yuuri didn’t cook a lot, but when he did, both of the others cherished it. 

 

_ Neither Victor or I can cook for shit. _

 

Victor finally came out to join them, eyebrow raising as he noticed Yuri looking fairly normal. Saying nothing, he sat down and ate alongside them.

 

“So,” Yuuri began, “This meeting. When does it start?”

 

Victor looked at his watch, frowning. “In about thirty minutes. Yuri, we should go. And Yuuri...don’t slack off just because we’re gone! You have reps to run through.”

 

Yuuri sighed. “I know, Victor. I know you’re not abandoning me because of this, you know. It’s fine. You need to be with your team right now.”

 

Victor blushed at how well Yuuri could read him, before squeezing his hand in thanks and kissing him softly.

 

_ Ew. Old men. _

 

“Done being gross?” Yuri said, rolling his eyes and slinging his bag over his shoulder, “Because someone said we needed to leave.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Victor chuckled, “See you tonight, my love.”

 

“Yeah, bye, pork cutlet bowl.”

 

They drove to the rink in silence, Yuri’s stomach twisting as he tried to decipher the emotions swirling inside of him. When they entered, they were among the last to arrive, quickly joining the throng of skaters crowded in the small meeting room off to the side of the rink. Yakov was standing in the front along with several other coaches. The men’s and women’s singles teams were there as well as all of the pairs.

 

“Thank you all for coming out today,” Yakov began, “As your coaches, we appreciate you taking a break from practice in order to discuss the unfortunate incident last night.”

 

Yuri’s stomach turned at the words, face reddening a bit, knowing he was far and away the most affected out of all of them.

 

“It is more important now than ever for you to be representatives for Russia,” one of the coaches was saying. A tall, thin athlete who Yuri vaguely recognized as being Vasily Kuznetsov, a twenty something pairs skater, was glaring daggers at him from across the room.

 

_ What the fuck is wrong with that guy? He’s been glaring at me since we got here. _

 

“What about this traitor?” sneered Kuznetsov, “Parading around in another team’s jacket. What, did your  _ boyfriend _ give it to you?”

 

_ Oh. Right. I’m wearing Kazakhstan’s colors. Whoops. _

 

“Yes, actually,” Yuri spat angrily, “Do you have a fucking problem with that?”

 

Kuznetsov’s eyes darkened. “The only reason we’ve been hauled out to have this stupid meeting is because of  _ you! _ The rest of us were all completely clean on our tests except for Popovich’s allergy medication and Tschesnokoff’s asthma meds. So  _ scandalous.” _

 

Yuri’s fists clenched as he tried to remain calm. 

 

_ You fucking asshole. _

 

“Enough!” Yakov barked, red in the face, “That is  _ enough _ . You are a team. Acting like this will only hurt you both.”

 

Yuri was seething, but he crossed his arms looking away from Kuznetsov’s furious face.

 

“Whatever,” Kuznetsov mumbled, “I’m just glad I’m in pair skating and I won’t have to see Plisetsky after this.”

 

_ What the fuck is with this guy? _

 

“What is your  _ problem? _ ” Yuri growled, ignoring his coach. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Victor smack his forehead.

 

“My  _ problem? _ ” Kuznetsov seethed, “My problem is you and your stupid  _ mental issues. _ The press is acting like you’re the only skater for Russia! The tragic hero of St. Petersburg. Someone as fucked up as you shouldn’t even  _ be _ in the Olympics in the first place!”

 

_ What. The. Fuck. _

 

“Yuri earned his spot like everyone else,” Georgi chimed in angrily, “He has as much right to skate as you.”

 

Mila scowled at the scene, crossing her arms angrily. “Back off, Kuznetsov. If you know what’s good for you.”

 

Kuznetsov looked murderous, but he didn’t say anything else. Yuri was breathing hard, trying not to unravel. Having a panic attack here, or worse, hitting him, would only prove the other skater right. Keeping himself calm, Yuri turned away, focusing his attention on Yakov and the other coaches.

 

“Now that all that is out of the way,” Yakov grumbled, “We need to discuss the press. They are going to want statements from all of you, and we need to talk about what we are saying as a unified team.”

 

_ Unified team? Is he serious? Half of us are complete strangers or enemies. _

 

“You may not all be friends,” another coach interjected, “But this situation does affect you all. A unified front will show the world that Russia is taking this, and the games, seriously. It isn’t just about you now, it is about the country.”

 

_ Fuck the country. I just want to go home and go to bed. _

 

“Plisetsky,” one of the coaches said, and his face shot up.

 

“Yeah?” he asked, somewhat nervously.

 

The coach looked at Yakov before speaking. “The press wants you to give the statement.”

 

_ They’re fucking kidding. There is no goddamn way I’m doing that. _

 

“Of course, we told them that wouldn’t be possible,” the coach continued and Yuri relaxed. 

 

_ Thank god. _

 

“We just wanted to let you know,” Yakov interjected, “Because it is quite likely they will ambush you at the first opportunity. You should be prepared.”

 

Yuri nodded, saying nothing. He saw Kuznetsov roll his eyes and he tried not to let it bother him. He had been angry with the other skater before, but he began to feel an old familiar burn, the kind he felt when he skated against Yuuri two years before. The familiar sensation of having a rival, someone he wanted to beat.

 

_ Fine. If you want to play it that way, I’ll show you. _

 

_ I’ll fucking win gold. I’ll show you who’s really supposed to be on this team. I’m skating these games to prove that to the world. _

  
_ I’ll show them what a gold medalist really looks like. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love doing fast updates because I feel like I am in the middle of conversations with so many of you, and I think it's so cool that I can chat with you all while I write this. Gah, that's sappy, but I love it. Thank you, thank you for all of your awesome kudos and comments! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	7. Smashing Every Expectation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _blown away_ by the depth of the comments I am receiving. When I started IWNB I had no idea it would touch so many people. I am thrilled that people are sticking along for the ride with this fic, too. Thank you.

Yuri threw himself into practice.

 

After the heated team meeting, the other skaters departed to their respective rinks, Kuznetsov shooting him one last glare. Yuri said nothing, instead letting the newfound rivalry light a fire under him.

 

_He may be a giant asshole, but at least it gives me another thing to work for when I skate._

_Also, he wasn’t wrong._

 

His free skate to _Swan Lake_ was coming along well, the technical components completed nailed down. Victor had taught him how to do a quad flip and he had integrated it into the program, near the beginning.

 

_We don’t all have Katsudon’s stamina._

 

The short program was almost a direct contrast from his _Agape_ performance in his last competitive season. If Agape had been about peaceful, unconditional love, his new short program evoked chaos. Originally, Yakov had wanted something calmer, but with _Swan Lake_ already in the program, Yuri knew he needed something more fierce. His music selection was a Rachmaninoff, intense, yet beautiful piano music, fiery and fast.

 

If he could keep his head together, Yuri knew he’d have a medal winning program.

 

He was working on the short program today, throwing himself into the complexities of his jumps and working on the transitions in his sequences. Hours passed while Yakov had him fine tune everything, the new fire of competition burning in Yuri’s blood.

 

In his intensity, he had nearly forgotten that his secrets were out to the world.

 

A few hours later, Yuri was packing up to head home. Picking up his phone for the first time since the morning, a wave of guilt swept over him as he recalled he still hadn’t talked to Otabek. Hovering over the call button, he decided to wait until he got home. Opening his messages, he decided to send a quick text instead.

 

 **Yuri:** Hey, sorry I haven’t called. I just got done with practice, can I call you in an hour or so?

 **Otabek:** Of course. Hope you’re doing okay.

 

_Hope you’re doing okay._

_Yeah, me too. I can’t really tell, today._

_It feels like a good day. I think it is. Despite that pairs skating asshole._

 

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he headed out to the waiting area to meet up with Yuuri and Victor. He was surprised to hear heated voices as he walked through the door.

 

“Victor, it’s just for a few days!” Yuuri was pleading, sounding very unhappy.

 

“Yuuri, you _can’t,”_ Victor sighed, “You can’t afford to miss a week of practice!”

 

Yuri rounded the corner, eyeing the two of them warily. Yuuri was obviously upset, red in the face, and Victor looked frustrated and sad.

 

“I’m sorry my love, but as your coach, I’m saying no,” Victor continued firmly, “You know as well as I do that you’re behind on your practice schedule.”

 

“Not by much!” Yuuri said desperately, “Victor, _please.”_

 

“I won’t stop you from going to Hasetsu, but I don’t support it. It isn’t a good idea right now,” Victor murmured, “Yuuri, I’m just trying to do what’s best for you. I’m sorry you’re so upset, but we both know you need to train more.”

 

“I’m homesick,” Yuuri admitted, voice small.

 

_Victor, if you make him cry I will punch you in the throat._

 

Yuri stormed up to the pair of them, eyes hard as he glared at Victor.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you just go to Japan with him and train?” he butted in, not caring if he was welcome.

 

Victor grimaced. “Yurio, this isn’t your business.”

 

“Actually, it is,” Yuri scoffed, folding his arms angrily, “The whole reason you two are here is because of me, right?”

 

Yuuri looked at him with wide eyes while Victor sighed heavily.

 

“Right, that’s what I thought. So if Katsudon is homesick, it’s my fault,” Yuri said, burning with guilt, “So don’t be an asshole and take him home for a few days and train there. I’ll be fine, I’ll watch Makka and Kobi while you’re gone.”

 

Figuring that settled things, Yuri waited for Victor to acquiesce, but he had no such luck.

 

“Yurio, this isn’t your business,” Victor repeated firmly, “Can you please give us some privacy?”

 

Yuri looked over at Yuuri and he recognized the look he was wearing. Panic swarmed under his eyes, trying not to show that he was on the verge of a breakdown. Eyes narrowing in fury at Victor, Yuri grabbed a hold of Yuuri’s arm and pulled him over to a nearby bench.

 

“Breathe, idiot,” he murmured, noticing the older skater tensing.

 

_Maybe I shouldn’t have grabbed his arm, but he needed to sit down._

_Fuck, why am I so terrible at this?_

 

Yuuri closed his eyes, breathing in and out very slowly. His anxiety attacks were different than Yuri’s panic attacks, not as visible and explosive. However, internally, Yuri knew that the other was still going through hell and could use a calming presence to help him through it. Even if the anxiety didn’t manifest itself outwardly, it didn’t mean Yuuri wasn’t feeling it on the inside.

 

“Yurio…” Yuuri mumbled softly, sounding out of breath, “How did you know?”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes, “You fucking do this for me every goddamn night. Now shut up and breathe!”

 

Victor’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, but he didn’t intervene. Eventually, Yuuri calmed down and opened his eyes, looking a little more clearly at the young skater in front of him.

 

“Thanks,” he said, face reddening, “Really, Yurio.”

 

Yuri shrugged. “It’s the least I can do. Now you two, work out your shit so we can go home. I’m fucking starving.”

 

* * *

 

In the end, Yuuri won and he and Victor agreed to head off to Japan for a long week of visiting the Katsuki family in Hasetsu. Yuri was a little jealous, he really enjoyed Japan for the brief time he was there. The Katsuki’s were the first normal, stable family he had ever been around and he felt at peace in their home. However, he knew that there was no way Yakov would ever let him go.

 

Yuuri had actually gone behind Victor’s back and booked tickets the week prior, so their flight was scheduled to leave that afternoon. They had rushed back to the apartment and packed madly, Yuri helping get them ready.

 

After a million different instructions from Victor and Yuuri about the apartment, they had left him with about fifteen different contact numbers in case something happened. He rolled his eyes as Yuuri asked for the hundredth time if he’d be okay, and Yuri had ushered them out.

 

Finally with the place to himself, Yuri collapsed on the couch and called his boyfriend.

 

 _“Yura,”_ Otabek answered quickly, _“I was beginning to think you forgot.”_

 

_Oh, he sounds cranky._

 

“Sorry, sorry!” Yuri rushed out, “Victor and Katsudon decided to fucking high-tail it to Japan for a week and I had to help them pack.”

 

There was a brief pause. _“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound upset I just...I’ve been really worried about you, and I kind of got the feeling you were ignoring me.”_

 

_Shit. How does he always know?_

 

“I’m sorry,” Yuri murmured, “I wasn’t meaning to...I was just trying work through it before we talked.”

 

 _“I get it,”_ Otabek said, _“How are you doing?”_

 

“How do you think?” he asked, laughing humorlessly.

 

 _“I...honestly, Yura, I could kill the person that did this to you,_ ” Otabek confessed, _“I have never been so mad in my entire life.”_

 

Yuri’s heart swelled a little bit at the protectiveness. “Thanks. It’s fucking ridiculous, even my own team has been shitting on me about it.”

 

_Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have told him that over the phone._

 

 _“What?”_ Otabek seethed in fury, _“Who the fuck is saying things to you?”_

 

“Just some asshole on the pairs team. Thinks I’m hogging his precious spotlight or something,” Yuri confessed, trying to be nonchalant, “He was giving me shit for wearing your jacket. Said I was a traitor.”

 

 _“Kick his ass,”_ Otabek growled, _“Seriously, who would say something like that? Especially after what got leaked. What’s his name?”_

 

“I’m not telling you,” Yuri laughed, a real laugh this time, “You’ll fly over and punch his lights out.”

 

 _“Damn right,”_ Otabek said, with a little less fire, _“Hey...I saw you deleted your twitter and made your instagram private. Is anyone bothering you?”_

 

Yuri sighed. “No, I just didn’t want to deal with…”

 

_Fuck, I hate saying out loud, it sounds so pretentious when I say it._

 

 _“Yuri’s angels?”_ Otabek finished for him, sounding amused.

 

“Yeah, them,” Yuri mumbled, face burning.

 

 _“I don’t blame you,”_ Otabek laughed, _“I’m glad you’re doing okay. Have you thought about what you’re going to do when you run into the press?”_

 

“Tell them to shove it up their ass,” Yuri stated bluntly.

 

Otabek laughed again and they talked quietly together for a long time, well into the night. Finally, both grew too tired to continue so with final _I love you’s_ they hung up.

 

Burning with curiosity about the state of his fans, Yuri gave in and opened a google search on his phone. He typed in **@yuris-angels** on twitter and steadying himself, he began to read.

 

 **s8rl8rgrl:** you guys yuri deleted all his social media :(:(:(

 **Redtailfail7:** poor baby. an d what that article said. Depression panic and ptsd????what HAOPPENED TO HIM MY POOR BBY :’(

 **Hallieballie** : Stop, you guys, it’s none of our business. He’s obviously upset, he deleted everything after all.

 **greg90skates:** i wonder if it’s why he missed last season. They never said what the injury was.

 **Yalbalova:** my cousin sometimes takes the same train as him (lucky) and she said one day he showed up covered in brusies

 **Skaterfanboi:** that is bullshit stop lying. why the hell would he get on public transit if he was covered in bruises?

 

Yuri sighed, scrolling down through more comments. Some ranged on idiotic theories, such as Yuri was actually the hacker and had posted it for publicity. Another one stated that Yuri was actually in a secret relationship with Yuuri and they were trying to cover it up by distracting the media (that one made him laugh).

 

Others were speaking of the diagnoses and medication, saying he shouldn’t be skating. And finally, the largest group, his ardent supporters, shutting everyone down with the hashtag #angelsforyuri.

 

It was overwhelming. He knew it was a mistake to look, but now that his curiosity was peaked, he couldn’t stop. Moving to the newsworld, he checked popular news sites to see if any articles were about him.

 

**Russian Skater Yuri Plisetsky Overcomes Incredible Obstacles to Compete in Korea**

**17 Year Old Yuri Plisetsky Faces Olympic Games Under Scrutiny**

**PTSD, Depression, and Anxiety, Oh My! Why Yuri Plisetsky’s Diagnoses are a Big Deal for Skating Fans**

**Teen Health Organizations Rally in Protest at the Leak of Yuri Plisetsky’s Personal Information**

 

_This is fucking ridiculous! It’s not like I’m the only person competing in sports who has a mental illness. Jesus christ._

_God, I wish Beka was here._

 

Angrily exiting out of the page, he quickly opened a text to Otabek.

 

 **Yuri:** Hey...I hate to ask this, but can you come visit for the weekend? Maybe a birthday do-over? I’d offer to go to you, but I have to watch Kobi and Makka.

 **Otabek:** Oh, thank god. I’ve been waiting for you to ask. I can come over for a few days. I’ll catch a flight tomorrow, okay?

 **Yuri:** Okay. Thank you. Text me your flight details and I’ll pick you up, okay?

 **Otabek:** Will do. Love you, Yura.

 **Yuri:** I love you too Beka

 

Sighing in relief, Yuri let himself relax as Kobi jumped on his chest, her purrs soothing him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explain the title of this series. _Accuse me thus_ is the first part of Shakespeare sonnet 117. I love this sonnet because to me, it’s basically saying: _If you’re going to call me out on my shit, at least do it poetically and acknowledge I did it because I loved you, you giant dick._
> 
> Which seems perfect for Yuri, if you ask me.


	8. Streets Get Colder, I Shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are trigger warnings for this chapter, but they are also spoilers, so I have put them in the end notes.

Several days later, Yuri was happily getting ready to meet his boyfriend at the airport. Yakov had begrudgingly given Yuri a full day off of training, with the warning to be there all the earlier the next day. Thrilled, Yuri threw himself into making sure the apartment was spotless and picking up some snacks he knew his boyfriend prefered.

 

_A whole day and night with nothing to do other than be with him._

_I can’t fucking wait, this is going to be so nice._

 

Busy getting ready for the day, he ignored a strange feeling that he couldn’t identify. He felt more anxious than normal, and unsure why, he pushed it aside. The excitement of the day was more important to Yuri than sorting through his feelings.

 

In a taxi on the way to Pulkovo International Airport, Yuri excitedly texted his boyfriend.

 

 **Yuri:** On my way! I can’t wait to see you!

 **Otabek:** Me either!! Our plane landed a bit early, so why don’t I just meet you outside?

 **Yuri:** Sounds good. Same place as last time?

 

Heart pounding with excitement at seeing Otabek for the first time in months, Yuri fidgeted in his seat. When the cab _finally_ pulled up to the airport, he was pleased to see his boyfriend waiting by the edge of the street. Hoping out, he rushed over and gave him a warm kiss, melting into his embrace.

 

_I missed this. I missed the way he smells, jesus. I already feel so much better now that he’s here._

_I still feel kind of...off today, I wonder why?_

_Oh well, who the fuck cares. Beka’s here._

 

“Yura,” Otabek sighed happily, kissing the top of his head, “I missed you.”

 

“I missed you too,” Yuri murmured into his chest, “Yakov gave me the day off, so we can do whatever we want today.”

 

Smiling happily, Otabek loaded his suitcase in the cab and they both entered, giving the driver the address to the apartment. During the ride, they talked about cheerful things; what Otabek had been up to in Kazakhstan and how their routines were going. When they finally reached the apartment, Yuri felt strangely restless and excited.

 

_Where is all this energy coming from? Maybe I’m just really excited to see Beka._

_I do feel really weird though. Maybe I should say something?_

 

Otabek was smiling brilliantly at him and Yuri’s resolve faltered.

 

_No, it’s fine. He just got here, I don’t want to ruin it._

 

A very excited Makkachin greeted them at the door, followed by an irritated Kobi, meowing for Yuri’s attention. Reaching down, he scratched his beloved cat on the ears while Otabek pet Makkachin. After they had greeted the animals, Otabek dropped his things in Yuri’s room, flopping on the bed.

 

“I hate flying,” he sighed, facedown in the covers, “It takes so much energy out of me.”

 

Yuri smiled fondly at him as he sat down next to Otabek on the bed. “Maybe next time you can just ride your motorcycle here. It would only take you a few weeks, right?”

 

Otabek chuckled, rolling over so he could look at Yuri. Smiling softly, he reached over and gently took one of Yuri’s hands in his own.

 

“You look really good,” Otabek murmured, abruptly changing the subject, “I thought...I dunno, I thought you’d be more upset.”

 

_Honestly?_

_So did I._

_I’m not really sure what’s going on…_

 

Yuri shrugged. “It is what it is. I figured I can either wallow over it, or use it to fuel my energy for skating. I chose the latter.”

 

Otabek grinned. “Good. Although, I still want to kill whoever posted that stupid article.”

 

Shifting, Otabek sat up and leaned against the headboard. He gestured wordlessly to Yuri, who moved over and sat in between his boyfriend’s legs, his back to Otabek’s chest.

 

“Killing them won’t take it back,” Yuri whispered, enjoying the closeness, “But it would be very, very satisfying.”

 

They sat that way for a while, enjoying each other’s quiet company. After a few minutes, Otabek’s hands strayed into Yuri’s hair, moving softly. Yuri felt gentle tugs, his hair being moved around.

 

“Are you...are you _braiding_ my hair?” he asked in surprise. He felt the rumble of his boyfriend’s laughter through his chest.

 

“Yes. Is that okay?” Otabek chuckled.

 

Yuri smirked. “Yeah, just don’t make it look stupid, Beka. I plan on taking a bunch of pictures this weekend.”

 

Otabek went back to work, putting a small braid in the side of Yuri’s hair. While he was busy, Yuri was looking through Instagram, enjoying the lazy feeling of togetherness.

 

“Hmph, your hair is tricky,” Otabek complained, “It’s too fine. This braid is too small.”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Just use more, then. I don’t mind if you pull my hair.”

 

He felt Otabek’s breath catch a little, but neither of them addressed it. Silently, Otabek went back to work, braiding a larger section of his hair. The comfortable silence lasted for awhile until Yuri realized that his foot had been jiggling for nearly half an hour.

 

_Fuck, this is so nice, why can’t I calm down?_

_I feel like I drank ten cups of coffee and I feel on edge. I haven’t felt like this before…_

_Oh._

 

His eyes drifted to his nightstand where two small orange pill bottles sat.

 

_Fucking._

_Shit._

_I forgot...I haven’t taken my meds! How the fuck could I forget?_

_No wonder. How long has it been? Two days? Three?_

_Shit, shit, shit._

_Can I take them now? Is that okay?_

_Will something bad happen if I do? Am I going to have withdrawal symptoms?_

_Am I having withdrawal symptoms?_

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

_Stupid, careless idiot. And on the day Beka visits! Goddamnit!_

 

“Hey, Yuri?” Otabek asked, oblivious to his internal battle, “Do you want to get some lunch? I’m starving.”

 

Yuri nodded a little too quickly. “Sure, sure. I’ve uh...got some stuff in the fridge. Want do you want?”

 

“Let’s go look. We’ll make it together, okay?”

 

Yuri stood, trying not to glance back at his pill bottles.

 

_I should be fine, right? I mean, I went without meds for sixteen years, I think I can handle one more day._

_I do feel off, though. Maybe I should take a peek on my phone about potential side effects. But I don’t want Otabek to know, he’ll be so disappointed._

 

“Coming?” Otabek asked and Yuri plastered a smile on his face.

 

“Yeah!” he said, “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

 

The two went into the kitchen, whipping up a hearty lunch. Sitting down on the living room couch, Otabek distracted him from his worried thoughts with some funny stories of his training regime. Yuri laughed in all the right places, pretending to be more engaged than he felt.

 

As the time ebbed away, Yuri began to forget about his worries a little. Otabek was beginning to gather more of his full attention and he was able to push back some of the emotions he was feeling. The afternoon went by quickly in a haze of funny stories, taking cute selfies with one another, and quiet snuggling.

 

_I love having him here. I hope I can hold it together until tomorrow morning._

 

Afternoon transitioned to evening and soon Yuri saw the moon begin to peak out in the sky. He felt the rush of relief he felt every night, the dark soothing him. He liked nighttime, it was quiet and calm.

 

_I feel a little better, but I still have all this weird nervous energy. My mind...it won’t turn off! I can’t sort my thoughts._

_Fuck, he’s looking at me._

_What is he saying?_

_Shit, he looks so good._

_Fuck it._

 

Ignoring the fact that Otabek was in the middle of a sentence, Yuri lunged forward and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss. Otabek tensed in surprise and first, but eventually melted, pulling Yuri over top of him.

 

Yuri knew rationally that this was not a good idea, that they should be having a conversation, especially after the last few times they had gotten together, but he was so wired and feeling so much at once that he just wanted to focus his energy on something else for a change.

 

And Otabek was a beautiful distraction.

 

The kissing intensified, Yuri melting down on top of Otabek while their tongues dueled for dominance in each other’s mouths. It was all searing heat, and Yuri felt his body waking up, a fire beginning to burn inside of him.

 

 _“Fuck,”_ Otabek moaned, taking a second to breathe, “Yura, holy _shit.”_

 

Yuri began to kiss his boyfriend’s neck, sucking gently biting, sure he was leaving a mark. Otabek writhed under him making all sorts of encouraging noises. Once satisfied that he had left a massive hickey, Yuri moved to kiss his lips again.

 

_We’re going too fast, we’re going too fast..._

_Do I want this? I don’t know if I want this..._

_This is a terrible idea, Yuri, what are you_ **_doing?_ **

_God I know I want him, I know I do._

_Fucking hell, brain, turn off already!_

_Just let yourself feel good for once._

 

Willing his brain to shut off the rapid onslaught of thoughts, Yuri focused his attention to their hips, lazily pressed together on the couch. Yuri experimented by shifting his body up slightly so that he and Otabek would grind against one another.

 

Otabek gasped as the sensations rocked through them both. Yuri knew that they should be talking about this, not rushing into it, but their bodies were acting of their own accord, both wanting the other and moving quickly beyond the point of no return.

 

Yuri felt himself begin to grow hard, grinding against Otabek more quickly. Sweat began to form on his brow and the thoughts were pushed out of his mind. All there was was _sex_ and _heat_ and _Otabek_ and the pleasure mounted and mounted, Otabek writhing underneath him until they both cried out in ecstasy, collapsing on one another and breathing hard.

 

_Fuck._

_I just._

_Had sex._

_With Otabek._

_Well, I mean...something sexual at least. Does grinding with our clothes on count as sex?_

_Damn, that felt good._

_What did I just do?_

_That was the first time I ever...came...that wasn’t...forced on me._

_I…_

_Fuck, we should have talked first?_

_Am I regretting this? I don’t know! God, what is he thinking right now?_

 

“Fuck,” Otabek gasped, hand over his eyes, “Fuck, Yura…”

 

Yuri had no idea what he was feeling. He recognized satisfaction, from the physical and emotional yearnings he had towards his boyfriend. A surge of warmth and exhaustion was there, too. The jittery energy and anxiety had not abated like he thought it would, instead it intensified his thoughts and made him feel more confused than ever.

 

“That was...amazing,” Otabek whispered, breathing heavily.

 

Yuri figured he should say something, but his mind was such a chaotic mess that he found no words would suffice. Instead, he lay down over top of Otabek, resting his face on his chest.

 

_Just breathe._

_You wanted this._

_He wanted this._

_Just because we didn’t talk doesn’t mean anything._

_It felt good and I liked it._

_So why do I feel so damn uneasy?_

 

Yuri curled his fingers in Otabek’s shirt, trying desperately to sort through his feelings. He had consented, in his mind, and obviously Otabek liked it, too, but Yuri knew in his gut that they had gone too fast. He felt stupid for forgetting his meds and making such a reckless choice. Hoping Otabek wouldn’t press further, Yuri allowed exhaustion to come over him, attempting to doze.

 

Unfortunately, his brain had other ideas.

 

_We should have talked first._

_You needed to tell him about your meds._

_You’re not in your right mind, Yuri._

_Goddamnit, fucking shit fucker._

_That felt fucking incredible, why am I doubting myself?_

_I thought…_

 

The reason hit Yuri like a punch to the gut. The violence of the thought was so forceful it actually caused him to start a little, earning a grumpy mumble from his boyfriend, who had dozed off himself.

 

_Oh._

_It’s because…_

_It’s because I thought if I had sex on my own terms, it would mean I was better._

_That’s the second time I’ve been wrong about that._

_I...I might not ever get over this._

_Wow._

 

The realization seemed so _obvious_ and yet it was bothering him to no end. Careful to disturb his boyfriend as little as possible, Yuri got up from the couch and quickly headed to the bathroom, peeling off his clothes and stepping into the shower.

 

The hot water soothed him and he rubbed his skin almost raw with the loofah. When he felt clean, he stepped out, turning off the water and drying off. Wrapping the towel around his hips, he headed to the bedroom, pulling on a soft black long sleeved t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The fabric of the shirt always comforted him, soft and soothing. He had actually stolen it from Victor, but he would rather die than admit that to anyone.

 

_Fuck, I actually wish he and Katsudon were here so I could hash this out._

_No, fuck. I need to talk to Beka._

 

Looking at the clock, Yuri noticed it was now into the later hours of the night. He could no longer stand the chaos in his mind, accompanied by the sinking feeling of depression at his realization of a false idea for a cure. He wandered over to the nightstand and took a single dose of both of his meds, hoping the effects would calm him soon.

 

Quietly, he wandered back out into the living room. Otabek was still snoring on the couch and Yuri smiled fondly at the sight. Despite the conflict inside of him, he still felt happy and sated as he looked at the adorably charming sleeping version of his boyfriend. Heading over to the large floor-to-ceiling window, Yuri turned off the lights and sat down in front of it, cross-legged.

 

The city of St. Petersburg was light up for miles. He watched the lights twinkling and dancing from the different buildings and he wondered what it would be like to be living a completely different life. Kobi leapt into his lap, purring soundly as she curled into a ball.

 

_I might never get over this._

_I may have to deal with this for the rest of my life._

_I probably will._

 

Yuri turned his head towards his sleeping boyfriend, a kind of sweet sadness filling his heart.

 

_He’s going to be devastated when we talk about this later. Fuck, he looks so damn peaceful._

 

Yuri spent the better part of the next hour looking out at the city lights until he eventually heard his boyfriend stir.

 

“Yura?” he mumbled sleepily, “Where’d you go? Wha’time is it?”

 

Yuri’s heart clenched with fondness as he headed over to the couch.

 

“It’s past midnight,” he said, sitting on the end of the couch towards Otabek’s feet, “I didn’t want to wake you. I showered and turned off the lights.”

 

Otabek blinked his eyes blearily and his face turned red as his gaze dropped down towards his waist.

 

“I, uh...I should probably take a shower, too,” he blushed, “And then...can we talk? I think we should.”

 

_Ugh, fuck. I knew he was going to say that._

_He’s right, though, we need to._

  
Yuri nodded. “Yeah, take your shower. We’ll talk when you get out, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Sexual Content, character thinking about consent, potentially could be read as dub-con, although both characters feel like they consented (more will be discussed on that in the next chapter)
> 
> This chapter is kind of intended as a two-parter. Yuri/Otabek's conversation and discussion of emotions will be a large chunk of chapter 9.
> 
> As for the medication: I did a lot of research involving cold-turkey medication withdrawals, especially in regards to Xanax. However, I know everyone is different, so I went with very generalized symptoms. More will be discussed about this later on in the fic. 
> 
> I am really proud of this chapter. I feel that Yuri & Otabek doing this without talking would be very in character for both of them. They're young, inexperienced, and Yuri at least is shit at talking about his feelings. It's quite believable to me that they'd make mistakes like this along the way. I hope that came through in the writing and it felt authentic and respectful to Yuri (and Otabek's) emotional states.
> 
> I also wrote this entire chapter in the last hour and my hands are dying. If you notice any errors, please let me know. I also wrote it while listening to "Existentialism on Prom Night" by Straylight Run which is a really beautiful song, highly recommend!


	9. Never Be Satisfied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos are so kind! Thank you!
> 
> TW: Mentions of past rape/non-con

Yuri sat cross-legged in front of the large window as he waited for Otabek to finish showering. A storm was brewing, the dark clouds and lightning flashes helping him to focus on something other than the chaos of his thoughts. An icy cold feeling was thrumming through his body making him feel numb.

 

Eventually Otabek came out of the bathroom and noticing Yuri on the floor, he came over and sat down next to him silently. Without turning his head, Yuri reached for his boyfriend’s hand, grasping it gently. Otabek gave it a soft squeeze and for a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence.

 

“How are you feeling?” Otabek murmured, first to break the silence.

 

_I don’t fucking know._

_Amazing? Terrible? Confused?_

_All three?_

_And how much of this is my meds and how much is me?_

_Are we even separate?_

_Fucking hell, am I seriously having a goddamn existential crisis right now? Pull your shit together, Yuri._

 

“I don’t know,” Yuri admitted after too long, his voice sounding strange to his ears.

 

Otabek moved so they were sitting face-to-face on the floor, a worried expression crossing his features.

 

“Do you...regret it?” he mumbled to Yuri, sounding unsure and nervous.

 

“Of course not,” Yuri said quickly, pleased to find that as he confessed it, he really meant it. “Of course I don’t, Beka. I...it was incredible.”

 

Otabek smiled weakly. “Yeah...yeah, it was. I was worried I hurt you. You didn’t say anything after and I was so scared I upset you.”

 

Yuri’s gut clenched, guilt washing over him in waves. “I’m sorry. I mean, I was the one who basically jumped you, so if anyone has a right to be upset, it’s you.”

 

“Yura,” Otabek grinned, “You can jump me _any_ time. I loved it.”

 

His expression turned more serious as he looked Yuri directly in the eye.

 

“But did you? Did you want it?” Otabek continued, “Yura...after. You looked...like you weren’t really present. I was scared.”

 

_Fuck. How does he pick up on all of this?_

 

Yuri didn’t respond right away. Instead, he let his gaze drift out to the streets, eyeing the dim lights of his former neighborhood far in the distance.

 

“I…” he trailed off, unsure of how to begin, “I don’t really know what’s going on.”

 

Otabek looked confused, but he didn’t interrupt. Yuri appreciated that he was giving him a moment.

 

“I forgot to take my meds the last couple of days,” he said quietly, not missing the way Otabek’s face fell at the words, “Just with everything that’s been going on, I didn’t realize it until a few hours ago. It’s been screwing with my head all day.”

 

Playing with the hem of his shirt, Yuri looked down at the floor, embarrassed. “I think I just wanted the thoughts to stop.”

 

Otabek sighed heavily and Yuri looked up to meet his sad eyes. He was running a hand through his hair and wore an unreadable expression.

 

“So...you were using sex to...clear your head?” Otabek asked, sounding like he was trying to phrase his words very carefully.

 

 **_Is_ ** _that what I was doing?_

_Fuck, I have no idea._

 

“I don’t know,” Yuri said in a strained voice, “God, Beka, I don’t _know.”_

 

Otabek swallowed, before taking a deep breath. “Yura...I wanted it, and it meant a lot to me. I am absolutely okay with everything that we did. I felt completely comfortable with all of it and I want to do it again, because I love you and I want to be close to you. Is...can you try telling me if that’s how you felt, too?”

 

_Jesus._

_He’s so fucking open._

_He...he opens his chest and says the words straight on his heart._

_How someone be that fucking honest?_

 

Yuri was touched by his boyfriend’s honesty, but he found it harder to speak. Instead of the open, raw honesty of a heartfelt confession, he had the cold, cunning, and chaotic mess of words tumbling through his brain.

 

_It’s because he knows his own thoughts and I don’t know mine._

_He’s the heart and I’m the head._

_Or, rather, he has both and I’m lacking one._

_At least, that’s what it feels like._

 

_I’ve just got to be honest. Or at least try._

 

“I’ve been wanting you to fuck me for weeks,” he admitted, ignoring the way Otabek’s cheeks reddened, “Because I thought that if you did, it would mean I was over everything.”

 

Yuri’s mind flashed to a cold winter night, one where he had sold his body and lost his last shred of self respect. Familiar feelings of worthlessness teased him, dancing under the calm surface he had worked so hard to build in therapy.

 

“But I was wrong,” he whispered sadly, “I know it wasn't...full on sex, but...I...you made me _come_ tonight and I still am just as fucked up as before.”

 

Eyes deep and dark, Yuri dredged his words from the bottom of his soul, scraping at the inside of his head, the parts of himself that he tried to keep hidden and safe. Unlocking them all, he unloaded the emotions into his heart, hoping to push his words out by force of feeling.

 

Otabek was waiting for him to keep going, squeezing his hand encouragingly, but Yuri couldn’t find the words. There were too many to sort through.

 

_Where do I even start?_

 

“Can you tell it to me like you’re telling a story?” Otabek suggested after several long moments passed, “Maybe that will help you say it.”

 

_A story?_

_A horror story, you mean._

_Okay._

 

“Once upon a time,” Yuri began with a sarcastic grin, “There was a _stud_ of a figure skater named Otabek Altin who had an equally hot boyfriend.”

 

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Otabek laughed, “I meant...what’s going on in your head.”

 

Nodding, Yuri’s smile dimmed a bit. He had tried to lighten the mood a little, but he knew that for his sake, Otabek’s sake, and the sake of their relationship, he really needed to be honest right now.

 

“I started kissing you because my head was out of control,” he began quietly, “But then you kissed back and I...I just lost control. God, the noises you were making were _killing_ me. You’re so fucking sexy and I just...I wanted to be close to you.”

 

_So far, so good. That’s all true. Keep going. You can do this._

 

“And I guess I just lost myself. When we...uh...were, um...well, when we were grinding it was the first time in months my head was clear. There wasn’t anything but you, and us, and it was so _nice_ in my mind _._ It was calm. Quiet.”

 

_I didn’t even realize that until I said it._

 

Words rushed out of him, as they often did anytime someone asked him questions in the moonlight. There was something about the night, something that made it feel safer for him to talk.

 

“And I wanted it to keep going so I pushed at you harder and then you came under me and it was the _fucking hottest thing_ I’ve ever seen and I...I lost myself.”

 

_All true._

_But now...the bad part._

 

Avoiding looking Otabek in the eye, he confessed what had been bothering him. “I told you I thought if we fucked, it would mean I was better.”

 

Otabek nodded, encouraging him to continue.

 

“Well...I guess I realized...that it may not ever get better,” he said slowly, the truth of the words sinking into his skin.

 

“I might not ever get over this. Sure, the memories might fade, but what if the feelings don’t? What if I’m going to be like this for the rest of my life? It’s like...they’re always in my head. My...rapists...and the man that...bought me…”

 

He took a deep breath to steady himself.

 

_I should be past the point of panicking when I talk about this. I can get through this calmly. I’ve done it a million times in therapy._

 

“What if they’re always there? What if I can never have sex with you without thinking about it? And it sucks because...when we were together earlier, I _wasn’t_ thinking about it, and it was great. It was only after that I…”

 

A bitter taste filled his mouth at the thought of all the unfair hands life had dealt him.

 

“Beka, I don’t want to live like this,” he said finally, “I just want it to be like it was, before.”

 

Otabek looked at him for a moment, eyes full of what looked like pain.

 

“I’m sorry...Yura, can...can I hold you?” he asked quietly.

 

_I actually really don’t want to be touched right now._

_I feel so fucking on edge._

_I should be honest._

 

Yuri shook his head, face burning. “I’m sorry...I don’t feel comfortable with that right now.”

 

Otabek didn’t look hurt, he simply nodded and kept waiting patiently for Yuri to finish his thoughts.

 

_He is too good to me._

_I haven’t been helping him at all._

_I’m just a disaster and he’s...he’s everything._

_God, why am I such a shit boyfriend?_

 

“I don’t regret what we did tonight,” Yuri said firmly, wanting to throw Otabek a bone, “You need to hear that. I’m glad we did it, and I enjoyed it. But I think we need to have...boundaries. For both of us. This is all new and I want to make sure we’re both comfortable.”

 

Otabek nodded, a ghost of smile returning to his face. “Yeah. I think so, too. What if we implement an ‘AFA’ rule?”

 

Yuri looked at him quizzically. “AFA?”

 

“Always Fucking Ask,” Otabek said, looking proud of himself, “As in, we always fucking ask each other before taking the next step in something physical.”

 

Yuri nodded. “I like it. I can agree to that.”

 

They smiled at each other for a moment before Otabek’s face drew in confusion.

 

“Wait...your meds. Yuri, I’m sorry, I know it’s not my business, but I’m worried because of how you said it made you feel. Have you...have you had a chance to take them?”

 

Yuri nodded again. “A few hours ago. I’m okay now, I think. I may be off for a few days while everything gets balanced. If something feels weird, I’ll let you know.”

 

A sudden bright flash of lightning broke the vein of their conversation and a startlingly loud _boom_ from the thunder shook the apartment walls. They both yelped in surprise and Otabek jumped back, hitting the couch.

 

 _“Ouch,”_ he said, rubbing his head, “That hurt.”

 

Another loud boom shook the apartment and Otabek jumped again, face tightening in worry.

 

_Is he...aw, is he scared of thunder?_

_Is it bad that I find that endearing?_

_I’m a horrible human._

 

“I’m implementing my first ‘AFA’ rule,” Yuri stated, “And that is, I will _always fucking ask_ if you want me to cuddle you during a thunderstorm.”

 

Otabek looked up at him, smiling weakly. “That obvious, huh?”

 

Yuri returned the smile fondly. “Hey, I’m scared of people touching me and other random shit, so I think a little fear of thunder isn’t weird.”

 

“I don’t like loud noises,” Otabek confessed, “But, um, if you’re okay to hold me...I’d like it. And could we maybe...not be in front of the window?”

 

Yuri nodded, standing up, ignoring how his sore knees protested at the sudden movement. Reaching down wordlessly, he helped Otabek up and they headed to the bedroom, Otabek curling down under the covers. Yuri slid in next to him, melting around him, their legs and hands intertwining.

 

_Wow, I should hold him more often._

_This feels really nice._

 

“My hero,” Otabek murmured sleepily, not startling when another thunder crash echoed outside. Yuri pressed a light kiss to his forehead before snuggling down next to him, relishing the closeness.

 

_AFA, huh?_

_I like it._

_Maybe I won’t ever be completely over everything, but if Otabek is willing to stick around and work on my shit, the least I can do is try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hopefully that clears everything up. I hope this two chapter interlude of FEELINGS was worth it. As this fic is focused on Yuri's recovery, I love writing his inner monologue.


	10. Young, Scrappy, and Hungry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for comments and kudos. I really appreciate you all! This chapter features a lot of social media, because I think it’s important to show that even though Yuri has been ignoring it, he’s still the talk of the town, whether he likes it or not. Also, I decided to use the rape/non-con archive warning on this fic after all because I re-read through it last night and I think I reference it enough that I should use it, just to be safe.

Yuri awoke tangled around Otabek, the covers twisted around them. It was so warm and comfortable that he tried his hardest not to check the time, not wanting to move. Yakov had all but strong armed him into coming practice a few hours early as he had missed a full day when Otabek flew in. It was a Saturday, a quiet, lazy kind of day. Victor and Yuuri had sent him lots of texts from Japan and he while he missed them, he was enjoying the time alone with his boyfriend.

 

Reaching for his phone, he frowned when he realized that it was only three in the morning.

 

_What? I’m wide awake. We’ve only been asleep for two hours._

_What is...oh. My meds. Right. Fuck._

 

The meds he had taken earlier still hadn’t quite kicked in, or at least if they were, they were not giving in to the withdrawal symptoms he was experiencing. Extra energy and insomnia were some possible side effects of withdrawal, and he supposed he was fortunate that was the worst he was feeling right now. Yuri had only experienced insomnia a few times in his life, but he recognized the sensation. Realizing that sleep was going to be futile, he carefully unwrapped himself from around Otabek, who shifted into kind of a ball under the covers.

 

_He is so fucking cute, I can’t handle it._

_Last night still doesn't feel real._

_I know it wasn't full-on sex but...I never thought I'd even be able to do that without freaking out._

_And when we talked...I felt so safe._

_God, I love him._

 

Feeling a wave of deep fondness, Yuri made sure Otabek was well tucked in before he left the bedroom to head for the kitchen. Walking over to the counter, he leapt up on one of the barstools and opened the laptop that was sitting there. He hadn’t checked his email in a few days which was somewhat unusual for him. Scrolling through his unread emails, he scanned the list looking for spam messages to delete.

 

 **Yakov Feltsman.  Tomorrow’s Practice.** Yuri, don’t forget, practice tomorrow at 8am sharp. We have to go through…

 **Victor Nikiforov.  HELLO FROM HASETSU.** YURIO! We miss you! I just wanted to check in and let you know that....

 **Eric Thompson.  SKATE Magazine Interview.** Dr. Mr. Plisetsky, We here at SKATE magazine want to invite you to give an interview…

 **International Sports Weekly. Plisetsky, Yuri: Interview.** ISW is looking to interview you for our October feature…

 

Yuri rolled his eyes as more and more interview requests followed. He deleted all of them, not responding to a single one. Knowing that eventually the media would ambush him anyway, he decided that he didn’t care. He figured that if the press wanted information from him so badly, they could dig it up if they wanted.

 

_I’m not giving them anything voluntarily. Assholes._

 

Despite not wanting to talk to the press, he still had a burning curiosity for what the media was saying about him. Only having one social media account and that being private, he figured that he had been missing a lot. Knowing it wasn’t the best idea, Yuri opened a search page and typed in his name, wondering what they were saying about him now that it had been a few days.

 

**Should Yuri Plisetsky be Allowed to Compete in the Olympics? Vote HERE!**

**“Yuri’s Angels” Fan Group Writes Letter of Protest to Popular Sports Magazine in Defense of Yuri Plisetsky, 17 Year Old Russian Figure Skater**

** PTSD, Panic, and Depression: What Yuri Plisetsky’s Story Could Mean for Young Athletes **

 

_Okay, those don’t look too terrible. Mostly the kind of stuff I was seeing the other day. My therapist would kill me if she knew I was looking at these. Okay, not kill, but she’d tell me it’s a stupid fucking idea._

_Eh, screw it._

_I want to know what they’re saying._

 

Opening Tumblr, he typed his name into the search bar. A few pictures of him skating came up, along with some gifs and quote posts of things he had said. He felt a little creeped out when some pictures of him and Otabek were there, but he quashed it quickly.

 

_They support me and Beka. I should be grateful._

_But seriously...did they have to edit it like that?_

 

He scrolled down the tags, beginning to see a lot of texts posts. He clicked on a rather long one that had an astonishing 112,456 notes.

 

**icebladeprincess _:_ **

_Okay, it’s time to get fucking real._  

_I am so sick and tired of seeing people on this website bashing Yuri Plisetsky for taking down his social media pages. He isn’t here just to entertain you and he is also a PERSON WITH FEELINGS. How would you feel if all of your personal information was leaked to the public? How would you feel if your mental illness, or any illness, was now public knowledge? It is confirmed that the Russian skating team had a meeting the day after this article (_ _x_ _) was leaked. Can you imagine how awkward that was for him?_

_Not to mention our boy has been dealing with shit from his own country for his relationship with Otabek Altin, who is from Kazakhstan. There have been Russian articles (_ _x_ _) (_ _x_ _) (_ _x_ _) posted recently where some reporters in his OWN COUNTRY are calling him a traitor and calling for protests at his meets. Can you imagine qualifying for your first Olympics, a childhood dream, probably, on top of everything you’re dealing with and have no one in your country support you? Can you imagine how fucking awful he must be feeling right now?_

_We know Otabek is in Russia with him right now because of the pictures that were leaked off of Yuri’s Insta. Which by the way, is super shitty considering he_ ** _made it private_** **_for a reason._** _I just hope that Otabek is helping him through all this, considering that this kind of a situation for a person with a panic disorder is probably a worst nightmare come to life._

 _My point is, Yuri is still a_ **_kid_ ** _. He’s barely 17 and he’s already dealing with more than most. I wish the media, Russia, and_ **_yes_ ** _, his fans, would cut him a break and let him heal in peace. I will personally be screaming my fangirlish heart out during his Olympic season because I can’t wait to see him compete. I just hope that he gets the love and support he so desperately needs._

Head swimming, Yuri clicked on the notes on the post, curious as to what people were saying.

 

**yuriangelgirl89:**

_Yes it’s shitty, but he’s acting so childish. He could have at least made a statement. I mean, I know it’s awful what happened to him, but shutting himself away from the people that_ **_do_ ** _support him isn’t very nice, considering we’re the ones standing up for him!_

**plisetsky-altin:**

_Okay, first of all:_  

  * __No. He’s not acting childish. Just stop.__


  * _Why the hell would he make a press statement when they already leaked his information????? Like why would he do that????? You’re being stupid???????_


  * _Yuri doesn’t owe us anything. And, as a fan, I’m going to support him by NOT being an asshole. You should try it, too._  



**katsukiyuriismydreamboi:**

_Um...hate to butt in, but is no one going to mention that Yuri and Otabek were very clearly in Victor’s apartment? Look at the pics...that’s Victor’s dog. And we know Victor and Yuuri are in Japan right now. Are they like...house sitting, or something? It’s weird, because Yuri P’s cat is there, too. I thought he lived in Moscow..._

**skateonthrumyheart:**

_Ohhh my god, you’re right! What the hell?_

**lowestonthetotempole:**

_Further confirmation that Yuri P lives with Yuuri and Victor!!! You guys!!! His cat!! Is there!! Too!!! YURI LIVES WITH THEM YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE_

**plisetsky-altin:**

_But why would he live with them, though? Remember when he was fifteen...his Agape skate was about his grandfather, right? Doesn’t he live with him?_

**Gretalregretal:**

_Maybe whatever happened to him last year had to do with his living situation. An awful lot of his pictures come from out of their apartment. Remember, Victor tweeted all that stuff about Yuri being his son, and we freaked out? What if he’s really staying there?_

_I want to know, but at the same time I want to respect their privacy gahhhhh_

 

Yuri stopped reading. So much information was coming through that it was actually making his vision blurry and his head hurt. He didn’t know that Russia had a problem with him dating Otabek, he didn’t know that his fans were so good at guessing the truth. He was just glad that nothing he saw brought up the why’s of his diagnoses and the meds he was taking.

 

_Shit. Protesting because I’m dating Beka? Is that seriously a thing?_

 

Biting his lip nervously, he glanced at the open bedroom door where Otabek was still sound asleep. Quietly, Yuri typed “Otabek Altin” into the search bar.

 

**Otabek Altin Faces Controversy over Relationship with Russian Skater Yuri Plisetsky**

**Russian Public Disillusioned? Yuri Plisetsky: Mental Illness and Public Relationship with Otabek Altin**

**Fans of Yuri Plisetsky Harass Otabek Altin on Social Media**

 

**yuripismyhero:**

_Okay, guys, what is the deal with Yuri’s boyfriend? He has said NOTHING about this. Is he supporting him? What is going on? Yuri wasn’t in any of this trouble until they started dating…_  

**clarissaskates:**

_I know. I hate to say it, but I wonder if he’s the one who made Yuri delete his social media. He seems a lot more private than Yuri, maybe he didn’t want the scandal to get out?_

 

Yuri nearly slammed the computer shut.

 

_I can’t fucking believe they’re saying this is his fault._

_God I...I can’t stand it._

_I have to say something._

 

Furiously, Yuri went to Instagram. Going into settings, he changed the “private” to “public.”

 

He opened his photo app next, pulling up a recent picture of the two of them. They had taken it right after Otabek had braided his hair. Yuri was leaning against Otabek’s chest while Otabek kissed his cheek, showing off the new braid. In the picture, Yuri was giving a rare smile as he looked up at the camera. His favorite part of it was that Otabek had _his_ Russian team jacket on while Yuri wore the now familiar Kazakhstan jacket.

 

 **@otabek-altin** _is my fucking saving grace. if i see one more shit article about how this situation is his fault, i will go postal. we’re just asking for some damn privacy, and i hope our fans and the media can accept that. #ilovemyboyfriend #ifyoudon’tlikethat #youcangofuckyourself #loveknowsnocountry #orgender #russiaolympicteam #kazakhstanolympicteam_

 

Without thinking twice, he posted the photo. He knew he’d get an earful from Yakov and even Yuuri and Victor about it, as it wouldn’t be good for his public image. However, after everything that he had read, he honestly didn’t care anymore.

 

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed with a text.

 

 **Victor:** Yuri, why are you awake? Also...that post. You know you shouldn’t phrase things like that online, especially with the swearing. You’re representing Russia now.

 **Yuri:** I don’t give a fuck about representing Russia. Russia obviously doesn’t care about me.

 **Victor:** I know it’s hard, but the whole country doesn’t think like that. You have supporters, Yuri.

 **Yuri:** Yeah, fucking right.

 **Victor:** You shouldn't say "fuck" so much. 

 **Yuri:** Shut up.

 **Victor** : And I know you don’t want to, but if you gave a statement, it might get some of the pressure off of you.

 **Yuri:** No.

 **Victor:** Just think about it?

 **Yuri:** No.

 **Victor:** Stop being childish!

 **Yuri:** NO.

 **Victor** : Go to bed, Yuri.

 **Yuri:** Fine.

 

Rolling his eyes, Yuri slammed down his phone. Despite the argument, he loved baiting Victor like that. The banter was more playful than a real argument and it felt comforting, like nothing had really changed.

 

Sighing, he climbed down off the barstool, heading back to the bedroom. He still had a couple of more hours to try and sleep. Gently curling back around his boyfriend, he lay still, trying to calm his head.

 

The hours passed, Yuri unable to sleep. Eventually, both of their alarms went off and Otabek groaned, waking up and leaning over to turn it off. His eyes widened when he looked at his phone, seeing it light up with notifications.

 

“Yura?” he mumbled, sleep still thick in his voice, “Why do I have like...three hundred Instagram notifications?”

 

“Sorry,” Yuri said casually, “I...uh...saw what people were saying about you and I got mad. I may have made my feelings public.”

 

Otabek’s eyes widened, clicking on the post. His eyes were warm at first as he saw the picture, moving down to read Yuri’s caption.

 

_Is he mad at me? Does he think it was stupid?_

_I hope not, because it felt fucking good._

 

“Yura…” he said, “This is...wow.”

 

Yuri’s heart sank. “That bad, huh?”

 

He was surprised when Otabek leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. “No...I’ve just never had someone defend me so ardently before. It’s nice.”

 

_Yes. Score one point for me._

 

“Well, get used to it,” Yuri grumbled, “I’m not letting anyone say shit about you because of me.”

 

Realizing he only had a little bit of time before practice, Yuri rolled out of bed, getting his things together. Otabek had agreed to come to the rink to train with him, despite the warning that he might get the stink eye from other skaters.

 

“Seriously, I don’t know who’s going to be there,” Yuri reminded him as they both got ready, “I told you, Kuznetsov hates your guts, and mine.”

 

Otabek just smiled. “I think we can take him if he shows up.”

 

_Yeah, but we shouldn’t._

_It would feel so fucking good, though._

 

Once they were both ready, they ate a quick breakfast and headed out to the train. The ride was peaceful, spent mostly in silence as they leaned on each other. Yuri was beginning to feel the tendrils of exhaustion creep up on him, given how little sleep he had the night before.

 

_I hope this skipping my meds for a few days thing isn’t going to fuck me over. I feel like a time bomb...should I be expecting a crash?_

_I really should call my doctor._

_But I just want a normal day._

_Ugh._

_Fuck._

 

Hoping the meds in his system now would help keep him stable, Yuri pushed back his thoughts as the train pulled to a stop. Heading out, they walked to the rink hand-in-hand, early enough that they weren’t worried about anyone on the streets recognizing them. When they reached the rink, Yuri set up and began to warm up on the ice, Otabek following suite.

 

They were the only people there, Yakov not due to arrive for another twenty minutes or so. Yuri enjoyed the peace, the calm of having the ice mostly to himself. Sharing it with Otabek was pretty amazing as well, and Yuri’s heart swelled when he saw his boyfriend do a beautiful spin.

 

_He’s beautiful and he’s mine._

_Fuck, I love him._

 

Yuri could have watched Otabek skate all day, but he knew he had his own work to do. Neither he or Otabek talked a lot about being rivals at the Olympics. Yuri was conflicted, as he was sure Otabek must be as well.

 

_I want to win, but I want him to win, too. I want Yuuri to do well, also._

_But we can’t all win._

_May the best of us be at the top of the podium, I guess._

_It probably won’t be me this year, but that’s okay._

_I have more time left._

 

Yuri skated through his warm ups until Yakov arrived, barking directions at him from the sidelines. Yuri was focusing on his free skate today, the _Swan Lake_ theme running through his head. Otabek skated a safe distance away, working on his own free skate. As the morning went by, more skaters began to arrive.

 

“What the hell is _he_ doing here?” a snide voice called, overly loud, from the edge of the rink.

 

_Fuck. Of course he’s here._

 

Ignoring Kuznetsov, Yuri kept skating, not wanting to lose his cool.

 

“Seriously, it’s bad enough seeing it online, but now I have to see it in person _at practice?_ He’s not even Russian!”

 

Yuri’s blood boiled and he gritted his teeth, trying to prevent himself from losing his cool.

 

“Plisetsky! Tell your _boyfriend_ to get off the ice! Some of us who actually care about our country want to skate!”

 

_Fuck. You._

 

“Vasily!” Kuznetsov’s coached yelled, “That is _enough._ If you can’t control your mouth, you won’t be allowed to use this rink for practice.”

 

_That’s right, asshole._

 

Feeling satisfied, Yuri continued to skate. He spared a glance over and was pleased to see Otabek hadn’t gotten himself riled up, either, and was still running through his own routine. After a solid hour of practice, Yuri signaled to Yakov that he needed a break and he skated over to the bench. Otabek had disappeared, presumably to the restroom or locker room, and Yuri used the time alone to stretch and drink water. He was doing fine until an unwelcomed figure appeared next to him.

 

“Plisetsky,” Kuznetsov sneered, “I don’t care what my coach said. I shouldn’t have to share ice with your boyfriend just because you have _emotional issues._ ”

 

_If you keep bothering me, you’re going to have a fucking emotional issue._

 

Yuri stayed silent, not wanting to get himself or Otabek in trouble.

 

“Seriously. You are a disgrace to Russia! And all the media talks about is _you._ A punk kid who gets all the attention just because of a few disorders?”

 

_Breathe, Yuri. Don’t let him get to you. Where is Yakov or his coach? I could walk away, but I don’t want to give in to him. Just keep silent. Let him talk it out and then destroy him in a few words. Yeah._

 

“What happened to you, anyway? When I met you a few years ago at training camp, you were nothing like this. What, did someone fuck you up or something?”

 

_Shit, shut your fucking face, asshole._

 

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Come on, at least have the decency to look at me!”

 

Yuri jumped slightly as he felt a hand grip his arm tightly and his vision darkened.

 

 _Oh shit. Not now, not_ **_now._ ** _Goddammit, somebody, help me! Fuck._

 

“HEY!” a loud, angry voice echoed through the rink.

 

_Mila? I didn’t even know she was here today._

 

“You wanna go, _Vaseline_?” Mila sneered, having had enough, “Let's go. Come pick on someone your own size, I dare you!”

 

_Jesus christ. She’s going to kick his ass._

_Should I stop her? I can’t even fucking breathe the right way, how can I?_

 

“What’s _your_ problem?” Kuznetsov growled, “Back off.”

 

“You’re giving him a panic attack, you asshole! Let _go!”_ she cried.

 

Yuri felt the pressure on his arm release as he tried to get control of himself. Once he had a shred of control, he stood up and stormed off into the hallway.

 

“Plisetsky, _wait!”_ Kuznetsov called after him.

 

_Fuck you._

 

Yuri headed out into the hall, collapsing against the wall and burying his face in his knees. He hadn’t had a panic attack in a few weeks and while this wasn’t the worst one he had ever had, he still was having trouble breathing. He gasped, trying to get air into his lungs.

 

_God, this fucking hurts._

_Okay. I know I’m having a panic attack._

_This one isn’t too bad because I’m somewhat rational._

_Okay._

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

_Fucking breathe!_

 

The tips of his fingers felt like ice and he was shaking as his breathing evened back out. He registered that he wasn’t alone, but he didn’t have the courage to look up.

 

“Plisetsky...Yuri...I...I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was like this.”

 

_Kuznetsov? Are you fucking serious right now?_

_He sounds upset._

_Ugh._

 

Raising his head to look at the older skater, Yuri locked eyes with him.

 

“What the fuck did you think it was like?” he gasped, still trying to get himself under control.

 

“Um...honestly?” Kuznetsov asked nervously, “I thought you were doing it for attention. I’m sorry. I was just jealous you were getting all the press.”

 

_What the fuck? Is he joking?_

 

“Seriously? Who the hell wants that kind of attention?” Yuri almost laughed. “Who the hell wants to fall apart like this?”

 

Vasily looked very uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

 

“I still think you’re an asshole,” Yuri growled, back mostly under control.

 

“Well, I still think you’re a dick,” Kuznetsov agreed, “But I guess...I respect you.”

 

There was an awkward moment where Yuri was unsure of what to do or say. He desperately wanted someone else to show up and take the situation out of his hands. Just because Kuznetsov was apologizing didn’t mean Yuri was comfortable with the situation.

 

“Teammates?” Kuznetsov said with trepidation.

 

_I guess if he’s offering a truce, I’ll take it._

_It's better than getting arrested for murder._

_Asshole._

 

“Yeah. I guess,” Yuri shrugged, “I’m still going to kick your ass on the podium, though.”

 

Kuznetsov laughed. “We’re not even in the same event, kid.”

 

“Doesn’t matter. I will own you,” Yuri growled, scowl on his face.

  
“We’ll see, Plisetsky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Gaymergirl for the “Vaseline” quote. Thank you!
> 
> So I can officially confirm that this story will have three parts. The third part, will be posted at the conclusion of this fic. It will wrap up all loose ends from IWNB and Rise Up. I feel that this part of the story is a really personal fic about Yuri, but part 3 will feature more of dealing with his past (and of course, continuing to heal) and the other people that feature in that.
> 
> After Part 3, I will be writing a fic about Yuuri’s anxiety. I’ve been brainstorming it and I am very excited to present it to you because I think I’ve found a really unique and interesting way to do it (that sounds arrogant, sorry). It’s called Ephēmeros and that is your hint!


	11. Run Independently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was originally a one-paragraph bullet point that was supposed to be the beginning of a chapter about the Olympics. But it really got away from me, so this fic is now 14 chapters. Hope you enjoy!

The weekend passed too quickly and once again Yuri found himself saying goodbye to Otabek at the airport. It got harder each time they parted, especially since they wouldn’t be reuniting again until the games.

 

“You better call me every day,” Yuri mumbled into Otabek’s shirt as they hugged goodbye, “Or I’ll start spam texting you.”

 

Otabek laughed, kissing Yuri on the top of the head. “As if I could keep from talking to you.”

 

They kissed for a long time and Yuri pushed himself closer in the embrace, as if to take in as much of his boyfriend as he could.

 

“I love you, Yura,” Otabek said, pressing a final sweet kiss to his lips, “Train hard. I’m looking forward to some good competition."

 

Yuri smirked. “I love you, too. And don’t worry, I’ll give it to you.”

 

They separated and Yuri waved as Otabek turned the corner, shooting him a final sad smile before boarding the plane.

 

If Yuri was choked up, he definitely wasn’t going to admit it to anyone.

 

Heading back to the apartment seemed like an ominous task. Saying goodbye to Otabek was like returning home after an amazing vacation or having to head back to school after a break. Even though he was going to a place he feel safe and enjoyed, everything seemed dark and dull, like all the color had been sucked from the world. It kind of reminded him of when he had been numb inside and he swallowed hard, breathing in deeply.

 

When the taxi finally pulled up, Yuri paid the driver and headed up towards the apartment door. Unlocking it, he was greeted by the enthusiastic animals meowing and barking, respectively.

 

“Okay, okay,” Yuri said, petting them both, “It’s just me now, so no fighting, okay?”

 

Kobi meowed as if in response while Makka panted happily, eyeing the treats on the top of the fridge. Rolling his eyes, Yuri grabbed a box from the top of the fridge and gave each of them a treat. He fed each of them and made sure their water bowls were full before allowing himself to collapse on the bed.

 

Burying his face in the pillow Otabek was using, Yuri was embarrassed as he let out a small sob.

 

_I can’t believe I’m crying this is so fucking stupid._

_It’s only a few months._

_I’m glad it still smells like him._

 

A few minutes later, he rolled over and looked around the room, taking in the sight. It had only been a few days, but the room had been situated for both of their needs. Yuri smiled faintly as he saw Otabek had forgotten some trinkets; a comb, an extra battery for his watch. The Team Kazakhstan jacket still hung on the door where he had left it.

 

_Wait...where’s…._

 

His phone buzzed, distracting him. Seeing a notification from Otabek on Instagram, Yuri clicked on the link.

 

Yuri’s heart skipped a beat as he saw a picture of Otabek grinning in a seat on the plane, maybe right before takeoff. He had earbuds in and was wearing a proud smile and Yuri’s team jacket.

 

 **@yuri-plisetsky** _ssh I stole this from russia, don’t tell him. #thisjacketismine #teamrussiaforever #ilovemyboyfriend_

 

_Oh my god._

 

Yuri felt a dopey grin spreading across his face, sending a quick text, copying Otabek’s words from the months before.

 

 **Yuri** : Jacket stealer.

 **Yuri:** You should keep it though, it looks much better on you. ;)

 

Knowing it’d be a few hours before Otabek received the text, he liked the picture on Instagram and decided to respond in kind. Pulling down the jacket from his door, he pulled it up under his chin and gave his best smirk into the camera.

 

@ **otabek-altin** _you can steal my clothes anytime <3 #myboyfriendisaposer #istoleitfirst #justkiddingiloveyou #teamkazakhstanforever_

 

Knowing that this would only fuel the media fire about the two of them more, Yuri decided not to look at the notifications on the posts, instead, he occupied himself by scrolling through the pictures they had taken over the weekend.

 

_Three more days until Victor and Yuuri come home._

_I’m not skating tomorrow._

_God, what am I going to do with myself? Ugh it’s going to be so fucking boring and lonely._

_I could...visit grandpa. But...is it horrible if I don’t want to?_

 

Frowning a little, Yuri decided again to call his therapist and re-schedule an appointment. He wanted to talk to her about missing his meds as well as what happened with Otabek. It would be embarrassing, but she had already heard worse from him. Leaving a message, he asked for an appointment sometime that week.

 

After a while, he got up to get snacks from the kitchen and his heart sunk as he saw Otabek’s hoodie sprawled over the couch.

 

_I really need to help him pack next time._

 

Without thinking too much, he pulled the hoodie on over his t-shirt and breathed in the scent from the sleeves. The swell of sadness he felt before washed over him again.

 

_Am I fucking twelve? Crying over a guy that I will literally talk to in like two hours? Fuck, get a hold of yourself, Yuri._

 

Sighing, Yuri grabbed some chips and things from the kitchen and heading back to the bedroom. Pulling the largest, fluffiest comforter over himself, he was wrapped up like a giant roll, only his face visible.

 

_I’m staying under this blanket forever._

_This is my fucking home now._

 

Yuri stayed under the blankets most of the night. The only time that he got up was once to walk Makkachin and to use the restroom. Other than that, he snuggled under the comforter, still in Otabek’s hoodie, feeling grouchy and generally sorry for himself. Watching movies on Netflix, he tried to make the time pass as fast as he could.

 

He eventually fell into an uneasy sleep in the early hours of the morning, a wriggling Makkachin finally waking him up because she obviously needed to go outside.

 

“This is why cats are better,” Yuri grumbled, getting out of bed, “Makka, can’t you wait a little longer?”

 

The dog whined and Yuri rolled his eyes, slipping into shoes and putting her on the leash. Grumpily, he walked her out to the front to do her business, meanwhile glaring at the sun like it was his mortal enemy. When she was finished, he took her up the stairs and let her off the leash, collapsing back on his bed.

 

_I’m just going to lie here all day._

_Hell, Yakov said he’d give me a few days off this week._

_Why the hell couldn’t he give me a few days when Otabek was here?_

_Well, to be fair it’s not like I asked him._

 

The rest of the week passed much in the same vein, Yuri only leaving the apartment to walk Makkachin. He made sure the animals were fed and watered, made sure to text Otabek, faithfully took his meds every morning. The state of his bed was getting progressively worse, empty snack wrappers, headphones, charge cords of all kinds, and various clothing articles strewn across the sheets. Yuri was still wearing the hoodie, wrapped in the comforter. He hadn’t been getting much sleep, a few nightmares bothering him.

 

He knew he was in trouble when he watched a sad cat video and burst into tears.

 

_What the fuck? Why am I so fucking hormonal? But oh my god, this kitten...it’s eyes. It’s up for adoption and it’s so cute…_

 

Sniffing, Yuri watched sad animal videos for the next hour and worked himself into a sad state. He hadn’t even realized in all his misery that Yuuri and Victor were due to arrive home any minute. His phone buzzed, distracting him from his miserable thoughts.

 

 **Otabek** : I’m never taking your jacket off. Hey, speaking of, is my grey hoodie there?

 **Yuri:** Yes. And no, you’re not getting that back either. It’s mine.

 **Otabek:** Aw, forever?

 **Yuri:** Yes. I live in it now.

 **Otabek:** Awww can I see?

 

Yuri sent a picture, not caring about how shitty he looked. Over the past few months, they had reached a point in their relationship where they no longer cared about looking their best at all times.

 

 **Otabek:** You looked kind of red-eyed. Are you okay?

 **Yuri:** Sad cat videos. Beka, we need to adopt them all.

 **Otabek:** Omg Yuri no more cats, okay?

 **Yuri:** :( :( :(

 **Otabek:** Aw, don’t be sad. Just pet Kobi, you’ll feel better. Hey, aren’t Yuuri and Victor coming home soon?

 **Yuri:** OH SHIT

 

Leaping out of the bed, Yuri got tangled up and crashed on the floor, still wrapped in the blankets. The tremendous _thud_ scared Kobi off the bed, hissing angrily. He groaned, attempting to free himself.

 

As if the universe wasn’t through embarrassing him enough, Makkachin thudded down the hall, barking happily as he heard the front door open.

 

“Makka!” Victor’s happy, yet tired voice echoed through the apartment, “Aw, Yuri’s been taking such good care of you.”

 

“Who’s a good girl?” Yuuri cooed next.

 

_Ugh, of course they’re here now when I can’t get myself out of these covers._

_Fuck it._

_I’ll just live on this floor._

_I am protesting._

_Protesting being away from my boyfriend._

 

“Yuri? You here?” Victor called, voice coming closer to the door, “The door’s unlocked so I figured you’re…”

 

Yuri kept the side of his face pressed against the cold floor, eyeing the door.

 

“Um...Yurio? Why are you on the floor?” Victor asked, bemused. Yuuri came up behind him, eyes sweeping the room and seeming to come to an understanding.

 

“I tried to get off the bed,” Yuri mumbled, “And I fell.”

 

Victor snorted, but came over and helped Yuri up with a hand. Yuri protested grumpily as he was pulled out of his blankets, aware of how bedraggled he looked.

 

“Uh, Yuri...have you, you know...left this room since we were last here?” Yuuri asked, sounding quite serious, eyes widening.

 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course. I had to practice and take out Makka.”

 

Feeling embarrassed with his unkempt appearance and red eyes, Yuri tried to change the subject.

 

“How was Japan?” he asked quietly. Yuuri came over and sat on the bed, still looking at him with concern.

 

“It was great. It was really nice to see my family,” he said softly, “Lots of good food.”

 

“Yuri, have you been eating right?” Victor cut in, noticing the empty junk food bags all over the room. Yuri just shrugged.

 

“Not really,” he murmured, “I was just...Otabek left and I got...sad.”

 

His face burned at the admission, but they had heard worse from him.

 

Sighing, Yuuri got up and headed to the kitchen. “I’m making dinner,” he announced, “This is a travesty. Yuri, come help.”

 

Yuri grumpily stood up and followed him out into the kitchen, where Yuuri wordlessly handed him a cutting board and some vegetables.

 

“Honestly,” Yuuri said, sounding grumpy himself, “I don’t know what you and Victor would do without me. Eating _junk food_ for a week straight, I swear…”

 

“Sorry _mom,”_ Yuri teased, interrupting his rant. Yuuri sighed heavily, shaking his head slightly as he boiled some water. They made the meal in silence, Yuri recognizing the ingredients for spaghetti. They cooked quietly for a while until everything was simmering. Yuri heard the shower running, figuring Victor had stepped in the bathroom.

 

“So...how have you been, Yuri? Really?” Yuuri asked, stirring the pasta and looking at him with warm eyes.

 

Yuri looked up, meeting his glance.

 

_Where do I start first?_

 

“I kind of had sex with Otabek,” he blurted out of nowhere.

 

_Ah, fuck, not what I meant to say. It also sounds like more than it was but...I don’t want to say ‘grinding’ to Katsudon. Gross._

 

Yuuri looked surprised, a red tinge appearing on his cheeks.

 

“R-Really? Um, well, that’s...great?” he said, sounding unsure.

 

Yuri nodded. “Yeah. It was. But now I...god, I just miss him so much.”

 

Yuuri nodded sympathetically, continuing to work on their meal. Yuri tried to organize his thoughts, figuring the next thing he needed to say.

 

“I forgot to take my meds for a few days,” he admitted softly, “And it kind of fucked me up.”

 

Yuuri nodded, stopping the cooking to give his full attention to the younger.

 

“Insomnia?” he inquired, and Yuri nodded.

 

_Man, I’m glad I have someone I can talk to who understands this._

 

“Was your anxiety worse?” Yuuri continued, “The times I’ve missed mine...it’s been hard.”

 

Yuri nodded. “Not too much...I was mostly just really restless and couldn’t sleep. I did have a panic attack, but it wasn’t too bad. Some nightmares, but nothing like what I’ve had before.”

 

Yuuri looked worried, but didn’t interrupt, as always letting Yuri work through his thoughts.

 

_It feels nice to talk to him. I feel a little more human than I have the last few days._

_Talking to him and Victor always feels...safe, like they’re protecting me._

_But it’s different than Otabek. Otabek and I...we’re equals, we protect each other. Sometimes I don’t tell him everything because I don’t want to hurt him._

_With Victor and Yuuri it’s like...they seem so infallible to me._

_I wonder...I wonder if this is what it’s like to have…_

_Eh, no, that’s stupid._

 

“When we…” he began, coming out of his thoughts, blushing slightly, “When we got, uh, _close_ , I thought it would be different. Like it would erase everything that happened. But I still feel just as fucked up as before. And I dunno...I just kind of realized I may never get over it, and that sucks.”

 

Yuuri nodded in understanding, a look of familiarity in his eyes.

 

“It’s a hard thing to realize,” Yuuri said quietly, “That you’re stuck with this forever. But you can manage it, I promise.”

 

_I hope so._

 

Victor emerged from the bathroom some time later, just as they were putting the finished meal on three plates. Yuri threw a whining Makkachin a meatball and grinned as she ate it messily. It felt nice to have everyone at home, despite the rough week that he had.

 

Sitting down around the table, Yuuri and Victor entertained him with stories from Japan and he told them about Vasily’s apology. Victor teased him about the post he had made about Otabek while Yuuri watched them with fond eyes. It felt homey and nice.

 

_I may have had a shitty week._

_Okay, let’s be real a shitty...long time._

_But this is okay._

_It’s going to be okay._

_They’re here until the Olympics, even if Beka can’t be._

_I can hold strong until then._

_Just a few more months until the games._

  
_I can do this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, the bullet point for this chapter was:
> 
>  
> 
> _Yuri is a grumbling blanket burrito, unwashed and sad, crying over cats. Victor and Yuuri come home and Yuuri takes one look at him, sighs, and goes to make pasta._


	12. Time to Take a Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: celebratory drinking, references to past rape/non-con/prostitution

Time passed. Days of practice turned into weeks, weeks to months. Olympic preparations began, the world beginning to become excited about the prospect of the games. The media frenzy around him had died down somewhat, but he steeled himself at the thought of the constant media presence in Korea.

 

He was used to sharing the ice with Yuuri and Victor, but as the games drew closer, both Victor and Yakov forbade them from practicing around one another. Yuri wasn’t sure why; maybe they just wanted to help them both focus more.

 

“Yuri, the Olympics are not like the Grand Prix,” Yakov said fiercely, “All the eyes of Russia will be on you and the eyes of the world as well. You cannot afford to lose focus.”

 

Throwing himself into practice, he had less and less time to talk to Otabek. They barely managed a phone call a week, sticking mainly to texting. It sucked, but Yuri understood that they were both being pushed to their limits. Korea was in a few weeks and they couldn’t afford any lost practice time.

 

His routine consisted of waking up, taking his meds, eating, going to practice, coming home, eating, and falling asleep. Day after day, week after week. The only interruption he had was his weekly therapy appointments, which were currently not going well. Yuri was beginning to resent the medication, telling his doctor that it made him feel numb.

 

However, he knew he couldn’t go off his meds now. His therapist warned that he may not be so lucky with the side effects a second time, and going off his meds before the Olympics may do far more harm than good.

 

_Fine. But after. After, I’m trying it._

_I’m so sick of feeling numb all the time._

 

Gritting his teeth, he got back down to business. Eventually, team meetings were called to practice for the opening ceremonies, team pictures were taken, general press conferences given. No one had dared call out Yuri at a team press conference, probably given how protective his teammates were being on social media. However, he knew his good fortune would only hold out for so long; in Korea, he knew he’d have to face it.

 

The day of their flight finally arrived. One of their rink employee friends was staying in the apartment to watch Makkachin and Kobi while they were gone. While packing, Yuri knew it would be _very_ bad press to arrive in Korea wearing the Team Kazakhstan jacket, but he packed it anyway, just in case.

 

His suitcase packed, passport in hand, he threw his backpack over his shoulders, kissed Makka and Kobi, and followed Yuuri and Victor at the door.

 

An excitement bubbled inside of him as they drove to the airport. He was flying to Korea, to compete in the Olympics. He, Yuri Plisetsky. On top of that, he was going to see Otabek for the first time in months. All were arriving several days early so that they could sightsee a little before the games began.

 

Yakov met them at the airport, along with several other members of the Russian team. Yuuri and Victor were meeting up with the rest of the Japanese team in Korea upon landing. Yuri was thrilled beyond belief that the day was finally there.

 

_I fucking made it. We’re...getting on a plane. To go to the Olympics. And I get to see Beka._

 

The flight would be nearly twenty hours, with a stop in between. Yuri planned to spend most of the flight sleeping, preparing himself for the excitement and chaos of landing.

 

When they finally boarded the plane, Victor pulled him and Yuuri in for a quick picture, snapping it quickly, all three of them giving excited smiles. Victor captioned it #familyolympics and Yuri rolled his eyes. The safety instructions for the flight began and Yuri felt the excitement swell.

 

_I’m so excited I can’t even be nervous._

_Olympics, here I come._

 

* * *

 

By the time their flight landed in Korea, both Victor and Yuuri were on Yuri’s hit list.

 

_I am going to kill them both. Their happiness makes me want to puke._

 

Yuri was tired, cranky, and felt gross beyond belief. He was sore from sitting, felt nauseous from breathing the stale plane air, and his stomach turned from the food. All he wanted to was to get off the plane and breathe air that didn’t smell like cheap seat fabric and bad food.

 

_The next fucker who looks at me wrong is getting a punch in the throat._

_I need to get off this plane._

 

“What happened to happy Yurio?” Victor pouted, noticing his scowl.

 

_Death, Nikiforov. Death is coming your way._

 

“Happy Yurio is _off this goddamn plane,”_ Yuri hissed angrily, “I can’t stand this!”

 

Yuuri and Victor laughed, teasing him a little. He knew he was being childish, but he wanted off of the plane so badly. Finally, _finally_ , the pilot announced they could unbuckle and get their things. Yuri practically leapt out of his seat before turning on his phone, grateful that Yuuri and Victor had helped him figure out an international plan to use while he was here.

 

His face light up as he saw an unread text from his boyfriend on the screen.

 

 **Otabek:** In the airport! Have you landed?

 **Yuri:** Just now. God, I am so glad you’re here because I am about to kill Nikiforov and Katsudon.

 **Otabek:** Ooh, back to nicknames? They must have really made you mad. I’ll meet you at your gate. P.S. to spot me, look for a #teamrussia jacket

 

_He did not._

 

Grinning, Yuri pulled out the Kazakhstan jacket out of his backpack and threw it on, thrilled that Otabek didn’t seem to give a fuck, either. He vibrated with excitement, irritation forgotten, as he imagined reuniting with Beka. It had been almost four months since they had seen each other in person and all Yuri could think about was kissing him senseless.

 

As they exited the plane, he ignored the chatter behind him and walked through the gate, eyes sweeping for the familiar sight of red and white.

 

“YURA!”

 

Heart beating wildly, he turned around and dropped his bag, racing into the arms of his boyfriend. They hugged tightly, Yuri burying his face under Otabek’s chin, just relishing the sensation of being held again. Pulling back a little, Otabek leaned down and pressed his lips to Yuri’s with a gentle sigh, Yuri responding enthusiastically. They kissed for what was probably far too long, given where they were. They were so wrapped up in each other, they had forgotten what a public place they were in.

 

“Yuri!” Yakov barked, “This is not a honeymoon suite!”

 

Pulling away, they both blushed, identical grins on their faces. Victor came over, greeting Otabek happily, and handing Yuri his backpack.

 

“Yuri, this has your passport in it,” he scolded, “Don’t just throw it around like that!”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Sorry, _old man._ ”

 

“Don’t sass your elders, Yurio,” Yuuri chimed in, shooting a grin at Victor.

 

Victor put a dramatic hand over his heart. “You wound me, love. Are you calling me old, too?”

 

“Yes, you’re ancient. Now get the fuck out of my way, I want to talk to my boyfriend,” Yuri scowled, heart leaping a little as he heard Otabek laughing at the exchange.

 

The four reunited happily, Victor and Yuuri eventually peeling off to go meet up with the Japanese athletes. Waving goodbye, they headed off, telling Yuri they’d catch up with the pair of them for dinner later.

 

“Do you have to go back to your team now?” Yuri asked a little sadly.

 

Otabek shook his head. “Not until later. We already met up, I said I was waiting for you.”

 

Smiling, Yuri took his boyfriend’s hand and headed to baggage claim, excited to finally be in Korea. The airport seemed like many of the other countries he had been in, the language being the only thing that was different. After they both got their suitcases, they headed to where Yakov had told Yuri to meet, just outside the entrance. The entire Russian Olympic team was gathering, and Yuri felt more than a little nervous. He was comfortable around his skating team, but the rest? He was unsure.

 

“We...should probably trade jackets,” Yuri said sadly. Otabek nodded, and they peeled off each other’s jackets, putting on their own respective team colors.

 

“I almost forgot what this looked like on me,” Otabek confessed as he looked at his sleeves, “It feels like it belongs to you.”

 

Yuri’s heart skipped a beat, gently fingering the sleeves of the Russian jacket. “This jacket feels like it’s yours. It even smells like you.”

 

Grinning, Otabek took his hand. “Then it’s kind of like we’re still wearing each other’s clothes, right?”

 

Blushing, Yuri squeezed his hand and they headed over to the rendezvous point. A large number of Russian athletes were already there. Yuri recognized the hockey team and some skiers. Several female figure skaters had arrived as well. Most ignored him, but several athletes he didn’t know frowned at his and Otabek’s intertwined hands.

 

_Fuck you, assholes._

 

“Uh...wow. Sometimes I forget what a powerhouse Russia is, and then…” Otabek began, looking at the sea of red and white jackets.

 

“They’re all assholes,” Yuri scoffed, “Well, except for the skaters.”

 

Otabek chuckled, but seemed a little on edge. Sensing his nerves, Yuri let go of Otabek’s hand, feigning that he needed to check his phone. A few awkward moments passed, neither quite knowing what to say.

 

“Team Russia!” a female coach called from the end of the hall, “Gather up for some announcements!”

 

Otabek waited for Yuri as he went over to listen to his team's announcements. Schedules were passed out, maps, language guides. Rules of conduct. The policy on drugs, alcohol, and embarrassingly, sex. As one of the youngest athletes, Yuri figured he’d be passed over on some things, but they gave him the briefings all the same.

 

After a final cheer for the Russian team as a whole, everyone broke apart to head to their respective hotels. During the games, they’d all be staying in Olympic Village, but many had chosen hotels for the first few nights. Otabek and Yuri had gotten a room in a hotel with Victor and Yuuri and many of their other friends. Victor had mentioned Christophe, JJ, and Phichit would be staying there and Yuri knew Mila and Georgi would be as well. Possibly even Guang-Hong and some of the other skaters from his Grand Prix season.

 

Walking hand-in-hand again, Otabek and Yuri began to discuss excitedly their plans for the next few days. Yuri wanted to see _everything_ that South Korea had to offer, and Otabek gushed excitedly about renting a moped to use while they were in the country.

 

“Think of all the places we’ll get to see if we have wheels!” Otabek exclaimed, “I can’t wait.”

 

“Me either,” Yuri said happily as they headed towards the doors.

 

They were just about to exit the airport when he heard someone call their names.

 

“Yuri Plisetsky!”

“Otabek Altin!”

 

_Oh fuck...that sounds like...reporters…_

_Shit._

 

Sure enough, about a dozen reporters surrounded them, offering no escape as cameras flashed in their faces.

 

“Yuri Plisetsky, tell us, how has training for the Olympics with your mental disorders-”

“-Mr. Altin, Mr. Altin! What is Kazakhstan’s stance on your relationship-”

“Yuri, what can you tell us about your condition? Our readers want to know!”

“Yuri-”

“-Mr. Altin-”

“What is it like to skate knowing you don’t have support from your country?”

 

_Fucking. Hell._

 

Yuri had planned for what he would say in this event, but he was unable to form words. Caught unawares by the onslaught of questions, he realized he was just staring at them like a deer in the headlights. Otabek looked equally flustered.

 

_Actually...god, he looks worse than me._

_This is making me so uncomfortable, I wish they’d stop._

_He talks to me so much I forget that he’s not really that open of a person._

_I’ve got to step up and help him._

 

“I’m looking forward to skating my first Olympics,” Yuri said, the reporters quieting down a bit and holding up their microphones to his face, “Both Otabek and I are excited to be in Korea and representing our respective countries. That’s all I will say.”

 

Pulling on Otabek’s hand, he walked forcefully out the doors, basically dragging his boyfriend behind him. His heart was pounding wildly, but thankfully the reporters didn’t follow them as they walked outside.

 

“Wow,” Otabek said, “That was...intense. Thanks.”

 

Yuri shrugged. “No problem. I was terrified, though.”

 

“Me too,” Otabek said weakly, and they both chuckled. Getting a cab, the headed to the hotel where they would be staying. During the drive, they excitedly took pictures of everything outside their windows, marveling at the country they were both experiencing for the first time.

 

When they arrived at the hotel, they checked in and headed up to their room, both exhausted and wanting a break. Yuri was pleased to see one large bed in the room, secretly thrilled that he’d have Otabek to cuddle all night. They unpacked and talked happily, getting the room in order. While Otabek sorted through his things, Yuri showered, desperate to get the smell of plane off of him.

 

When he was finished showering, Yuri dried himself off and pulled on a pair of black sweats, not bothering with a shirt. Still working on drying his hair with the towel, he stepped out of the bathroom and smiled at the sight of Otabek dozing on the bed.

 

_Fuck, I missed him._

 

After he dried his hair, Yuri grabbed a soft t-shirt out of Otabek’s suitcase, pulling it on his head and snuggling next to him in the bed.

 

“Mmm,” Otabek murmured sleepily, “S’that you, Yura?”

 

“It _better_ fucking be,” he responded grouchily, “No one else is allowed to cuddle you like this.”

 

Otabek’s chest rumbled with laughter and he turned over so they were face-to-face on the bed. They looked at each other for a long moment before they both moved and pressed their lips together in a sweet kiss.

 

The kissed lazily for what felt like hours, eventually pressing closer together so their legs were tangled together. Yuri felt a familiar surge of _want_ deep in his belly, but he suppressed it.

 

_God, I just want him to take me now._

_But this isn’t the right time and I don’t want to risk having a panic attack._

_I should tell him how I feel._

 

“Beka…” he murmured, pulling away slightly, “I, uh...remember the last time you visited? Where we um...got off...with clothes on?”

 

Otabek blushed, but grinned. “How could I forget the best night of my life?”

 

Yuri laughed softly. “Well, um...I kind of want to try what we did before but...without...clothes? Is that something you’d want?”

 

Otabek’s eyes widened and grew dark.

 

_Oh god he’s thinking about it._

_That is far hotter than it should be._

_Fuck._

 

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Yes, Yura. Yes.”

 

Yuri smiled happily. “Tonight? After...we get back?”

 

Otabek nodded, claiming Yuri’s lips in a powerful kiss. They continued their makeout session for a while longer, both excited for the night to come.

 

A few hours later, they met up with all of their friends in the hotel lobby. Yuuri and Victor were chatting excitedly with Phichit and Christophe. JJ, Georgi, and Mila were deep in conversation, but all talking stopped as they noticed Otabek and Yuri.

 

They were greeted enthusiastically by everyone, which embarrassed them both, but Yuri was secretly pleased by it. Eventually after much talk, they agreed on a restaurant that the hotel had recommended, and they were off to downtown PyeongChang.  

 

Phichit insisted on group photos at every new landmark they passed, and even Yuri had to admit he enjoyed it, getting caught up into the spirit of the games. They passed a lot of other athletes on the way, some who would greet them and hop into their pictures. A general feeling of excitement and anticipation gripped the city, and it made Yuri happy and anxious all at the same time.

 

_In less than two weeks, I could be skating for a medal in the Olympics._

_Holy shit, this is real._

 

“Hey, guys, I think this is the place!” Phichit called excitedly, “Come on, everybody!”

 

_He’s like a fucking cruise director. Where does he get all the energy?_

 

The restaurant looked very classy, sleek and dark furniture with modern looking accents. Yuri felt a little underdressed in his black jeans and sweatshirt, but considering Otabek was dressed down too, he didn’t think to much of it.

 

“We look like scrubs,” Otabek whispered in his ear, and Yuri snorted.

 

“Hot scrubs, though,” he said, winking. Sniggering, they sat down at two chairs side-by-side at a long table, everyone else finding their seats. They ordered everything on the menu they could think of, even some alcohol was purchased.

 

“Yuri, sorry, but the drinking age here is nineteen,” Victor said, “You’re going to have to make due with something else!”

 

_Um..yeah, Victor, wasn’t planning on it. Anxious mess on two separate medications, remember? Taking Xanax and alcohol...not a good choice._

 

Rolling his eyes, Yuri kept his internal monologue to himself, just drinking water while the older skaters got red-faced and loud. Otabek wasn’t drinking, either, despite being of age, which Yuri appreciated.

 

“Thanks for staying sober with me,” he murmured quietly. Otabek looked at him fondly.

 

“Yura...I want to remember tonight. For a lot of reasons.”

 

Yuri blushed as he thought about what they had planned for after dinner and he squeezed Otabek’s hand tightly under the table. The conversation continued to flow around them and a happy, cheerful atmosphere filled the room.

 

“Yurio!” Victor called out, “We never got to celebrate your birthday!”

 

Face reddening, Yuri tried not to remember how he had acted on his birthday.

 

“It’s okay, Victor, it was months ago,” he said, brushing it off.

 

“No, no! We have to celebrate,” Christophe chimed in, “Um, everyone, grab a glass!”

 

He saw Yuuri, Georgi, Mila, and Otabek shooting him varying levels of concern, all sober enough to recall why Yuri hadn’t celebrated his last birthday.

 

_That was the last time I had a real breakdown, the day they posted the article. I didn’t really want to remember that tonight…_

 

“To Yuri! Happy Birthday!” JJ practically _yelled_ from the end of the table.

 

“Happy Birthday, Yuri!” everyone chimed in, and Yuri managed a weak smile.

 

Victor half stood, half crouched, clearly intoxicated. “Yuri, your father and I-”

 

“-Victor, we are _not_ his parents-”

 

“Ssh, hush my love, yes we are. Your father and I want to say we are so very proud of you, our little ice tiger. For your first Olympics, and everything else!”

 

Despite the fact that Victor was wasted out of his mind, something about the speech touched Yuri. He hadn’t had an adult figure in his life mention pride for him rarely, if ever, and when it did happen he was unsure of how to respond. To his horror, he actually felt himself feeling a little emotional.

 

“Uh, thanks,” he said, “But Katsudon’s right, I am not your son. You just wish I was.”

 

Victor pouted, sitting down and looking a little deflated. “Yurio, you wound me.”

 

The rest of the table laughed, and Yuri was reminded of a similar dinner, months before after the Olympic trials. They ate and drank the night away, until the darkness outside alerted them to the night truly beginning.

 

“Come on!” Mila called, “Let’s see what kind of night life PyeongChang has to offer!”

 

They paid the bill, all chipping in, before standing up and heading out. Walking the streets was a little magical, busy and crowded. Hordes of athletes seemed to be swarming the bars and clubs, of all nationalities and countries. Yuri and Otabek kept their hands together as they walked, mainly in silence, staring in awe at the bustling city around them.

 

“Whoa, holy hell,” JJ said suddenly, “Is that a…”

 

They turned to look where JJ was eyeing, and Yuri felt his heart sink.

 

_Is this PyeongChang’s red light district?_

_Well, I suppose every city has one._

_I don’t see any guys, it’s all girls here._

_Maybe the guys are hidden in alleys, like I was._

 

“Damn, are those real hookers?” JJ asked, sounding genuinely curious, “I wonder what that’s like. Must be desperate, don’t you think?”

 

_Stop._

 

“Maybe they just like it. Sex isn’t emotional for everyone,” Christophe interjected.

 

_Jesus._

 

Phichit groaned. “That is _way_ too much information, Chris. But it seems so...sad to me. I don’t like looking at their eyes. They look so young…”

 

_Fucking hell! It’s like the world just loves to shit on me, doesn’t it?_

 

“Yeah, they’re like...Yuri’s age!” JJ butted in, smirking, “Yuri, you should totally go talk to them.”

 

_Fuck. You. Stop. Jesus, I’m barely holding it together, here..._

 

“Stop it,” Otabek warned firmly, sensing Yuri tense under him at the words.

 

Yuri swallowed hard, the familiar feeling of panic threatening to overwhelm him. Victor and Yuuri were both silent, obviously unsure of how to handle the situation. Yuri just wanted someone, anyone, to step in and say something that would change the subject. His own words were frozen in his throat.

 

“Yuri, you’re pretty enough,” JJ teased, slurring a little from his drunkenness, “You’d fit right in.”

 

_Oh my god, I’m going to throw up._

_I’m going to throw up._

_I can’t hear this, fuck._

_Breathe. It’s like when Christophe grabbed you during the trials._

_It’s harmless._

_It’s just JJ, he’s an idiot._

 

“JJ, I’m warning you,” Otabek growled, “Shut _up.”_

 

JJ rolled his eyes. “Stop being so sensitive. Yuri knows I’m joking, right? He’s too prissy to be a hooker, anyway.”

 

Yuri’s eyes were growing dark, uncomfortable panic growing inside him. His attacks while on meds were different. They were fairly, but when they did occur, they seemed to come on more slowly, which could be terrifying, like waiting in anticipation for something to attack you.

 

_Breathe._

_In._

_Out._

_It’s just JJ._

_“How much?”_

_No._

_Fuck._

_“I’ve never done this before…”_

_STOP._

_“Your mother’s been arrested for prostitution…”_

_Goddamn. I need to get out of here._

 

“Yura?” Otabek was asking him in concern, and Yuri realized that he had stopped walking. Swallowing hard, he shook his head a little, wishing suddenly that he and Otabek did have a safe word, or a code word at least, for situations like this.

 

“Beka,” he trembled, voice small, “I want to go back to the hotel.”

 

Trying desperately not to look at the other skaters who were all watching the scene with varying levels of sobriety, Yuri kept his eyes fixed on Otabek’s hand holding his own, the sight grounding him.

 

“Okay, Yura,” Otabek said softly, “Let’s go.”

 

Bidding a quick goodbye to everyone, Otabek gripped his hand more tightly, walking away quickly.

 

“Hey, Yuri! Otabek! Come back, it was just a joke!” JJ called, sounding very put out. Yuri tried to keep his breathing under control as they walked. Otabek hailed a cab, gently pulling Yuri in next to him. Burying his face in Otabek’s shoulder, Yuri inhaled deeply and kept his breathing steady. Otabek said nothing, just stayed calm.

 

When they finally arrived back at the hotel, Yuri let Otabek lead him in and into the elevator, silently taking them up to their floor. Walking to the room, Yuri sighed in relief as the door opened, the familiar sight of their things calming him. The door closed behind them with a click and Otabek turned on a lamp, eyeing Yuri with worry.

 

“Tell me what you need,” he said calmly, keeping his distance, yet still close enough to be comforting.

 

Yuri had run out of words, the emotions finally getting the better of him. Burying his face in his hands, he trembled silently, the panic ebbing and flowing through him.

 

_This is what I was afraid of._

_I’m on meds and shit like this still happens._

_I’m at the fucking Olympics, I should be happy._

_Goddamn it._

_Fuck._

_Fucking JJ._

_Why...everything was going so well?_

 

His mind bounced around, different thoughts and images racing through his brain. The scent of Otabek’s cologne. Makkachin’s nails scraping on the floor. A dirty, disgusting car in a St. Petersburg alley. The smell of bacon frying. His mother singing him a lullaby.

 

His whole body shaking now, he felt unsteady enough that he knew he needed to sit. Sliding down the wall, he buried his face in his knees, doing the breathing exercises his therapist had taught him.

 

“Yura?” Otabek croaked, sounding nervous.

 

_Give me a minute, Beka._

_I’m sorry I just need to breathe for a bit._

 

Yuri heard the sound of Otabek’s ringtone and the ‘click’ of him answering.

 

“Yuuri?” Otabek said quietly, “Yeah, he’s okay. Well, no, but...no, we’re...we’re fine. You guys go ahead and stay out. And please, for the love of god, tell off JJ for me. Thanks.”

 

_Yuuri. Should’ve known he’d call. He wasn’t drinking tonight, either. Smart. Someone’s got to watch out for those drunk idiots._

_Breathe._

_In._

_Out._

_Breathe._

 

After a few more minutes had passed, Yuri finally felt stable enough to look him. Otabek was sitting across from him with a worried expression.

 

“Are you back with me?” he asked Yuri nervously.

 

Yuri nodded, leaning his head against the wall. “Yeah. JJ just took me by surprise. Dick.”

 

Otabek cracked a weak smile. “Yeah, he is. Do you need anything?”

 

_I want you to hold me._

_Is that weak of me?_

_I don’t even give a shit._

 

“Can...can you…” Yuri stammered, unsure of why he was so nervous, “Can you hold me?”

 

Otabek looked at him with so much love in his gaze Yuri thought he would melt. Holding out his hand, Yuri took it gratefully and allowed himself to be pulled over towards the bed. Otabek gently helped Yuri take off his shoes and sweatshirt, leaving him barefooted and in jeans and a t-shirt. Yuri frowned at the jeans, they were uncomfortable and tight.

 

Not wanting to feel so closed in, he peeled them off, leaving him only in his boxers. Not looking at Otabek, he reached over for a pair of soft pajama pants, pulling those on instead. He heard rustling that told him Otabek was doing the same. There was a dip in the bed when Otabek laid down next to him.

 

“This is an AFA moment,” Otabek said softly, “Because we said _always fucking ask._ I’m going to wrap my arms around you now. Is that okay?”

 

Yuri nodded, grateful for the warning. Otabek wrapped around him and the tightness in his chest loosened a little.

 

“Now I’m going to put our legs together. Okay?”

 

Yuri nodded in consent, allowing their legs to tangle on the bed. He felt so safe, so loved, in Otabek’s embrace, that he almost forgot to feel guilty over forgetting what they had planned for the evening.

 

“Beka,” he began, “I’m sorry, but...I don’t think I can do more than this, tonight.”

 

“Me either,” Otabek whispered, “JJ really upset me, too. I’m so sorry, Yura. I wish I could have kept his mouth shut.”

 

Yuri sighed. “Me too. But...if it wasn’t JJ, it probably would have been something else. I’m jet lagged and was already a little on edge from the reporters and the nerves. I think I handled that attack okay, though.”

 

“Yeah, you did,” said Otabek proudly, “You’ve come so far. I’m so proud of you. I know Victor and Yuuri said it earlier, but I wanted you to know. I am so proud to call you my boyfriend. I’ll scream it at the opening ceremonies. Whatever you want.”

 

Yuri felt himself grinning. “Maybe not screaming it at the ceremonies...but I’d settle for a kiss?”

 

Otabek shifted, pressing their lips together gently. The kiss was lingering, but sweet, and both sighed when it was over.

 

“I can’t wait for the opening ceremonies. It’s going to be so amazing,” Otabek gushed.

 

_Changing the topic. Just like I wanted earlier. God, he always knows what I need._

 

“Me either. Do you think it’s going to top the 2008 China opening?” Yuri asked, urging the conversation to continue.

 

Otabek responded and they talked for a long time, about gentle topics, steering clear from anything serious. Eventually, they found themselves yawning. Otabek moved to turn off the lamp, and they situated themselves so that Yuri’s head was resting on Otabek’s chest.

 

“Night Beka,” he murmured, “Love you.”

 

“Love you too, Yura. G’night.”

 

Yuri’s last thought before drifting off to sleep was of gentle lips on his own and warm, brown eyes.

  
_Olympics, here we come._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized that in [IWNB,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9610640/chapters/21713519) the antagonists were other people in Yuri’s life; Pavel, the men who attacked him, his family. But in this fic, the real antagonist is his anxiety, depression, panic disorder, and PTSD. Part three is going to be a merger of these things, still continuing the healing process, but being realistic about it as well.


	13. Shout it to the Rooftops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OLYMPICS.

Yuri was standing on the podium, the crowd screaming around him. Flowers fell at his feet while the Russian anthem played over the speakers. Smiling, he waved at the crowd, looking down proudly at the medal on his chest. Turning to his fellow medalists, he was surprised that the silver and bronze winners were gone.

 

Confused, he looked around, the bleachers now empty as well. The lights turned off in the area, one by one, until Yuri was left in complete darkness. A sudden fear gripped him as he felt suffocating pressure surrounding him on all sides as something pushed him down backwards off of the podium.

 

_What?_

_What the hell is...oh fuck, I’m asleep._

_Wake up. Wake up!_

 

The lucid dream continued, Yuri feeling like he was falling and falling, unable to see where he was. Eventually, blurring colors swirled around him and he began to gasp for air, disoriented and confused.

 

_I can’t move, I can’t move! I can’t move my legs!_

 

Horror seized him, his alert mind unable to communicate with his sleeping body. The sensation of falling grew faster and faster until he jolted up in the bed, a cry of panic in his throat. Wrenching off the covers, he buried his face in his hands, breathing heavily. He felt something near him shift and he remembered where he was.

 

_Easy. Calm down._

_Where are you?_

_I’m in South Korea._

_It’s the Olympics._

_I’m in a hotel._

_I’m with Beka._

_Breathe._

_It was just a nightmare._

 

“Yura?” Otabek murmured sleepily, “Y’okay?”

 

Yuri was still breathing hard from the dream, unable to voice his thoughts. He didn’t want to worry Otabek, given that it was the day of the opening ceremonies, but he also knew his boyfriend wanted him to be honest with how he was feeling.

 

“Had a nightmare,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes, “I kept _falling_ and everyone disappeared and I couldn’t _move…”_

 

Otabek was fully awake, sensing Yuri’s distress. Apparently remembering what Yuri had mentioned about his nightmares, he wrapped his arms in a firm grip around him. Yuri focused on the solid arms holding him and he allowed himself to breathe, thankful for his boyfriend’s presence. Neither spoke, they just held one another until the dawn broke, light flooding the room.

 

It was the day of the Opening Ceremonies, and Yuri was feeling both excited and nervous. He supposed it was only natural that he should have a nightmare on the eve of such a big event, but he wished that he was able to get through one night without having to deal with terror. Otabek asked him gently if he was alright in the morning, to which Yuri nodded. They both had lots of team events today, getting ready for the parade of nations and the ceremonies themselves.

 

_Tonight, I am walking in the parade of nations with Team Russia._

_This is really happening._

 

The day seemed to pass in a blur, Yuri unsure of exactly what to expect. When the time came finally for the ceremonies to begin, he stood near Mila and Georgi, watching the ceremonies unfold.

 

Waiting for the other countries to enter took forever. He wasn’t sure exactly how the countries were ordered this year, but Russia was one of the last to enter.

 

_At least I’ll get to see everyone as I pass. Maybe I can even sneak a quick picture with Beka._

 

Finally, they entered the arena and Yuri’s mouth dropped open. It was roaring with noise and he had never heard quite so much screaming in his life. Team Russia was large, maybe second only to the United States, and he did feel a surge of pride as his country walked into the stadium.

 

Heart pounding, he waved excitedly at Victor and Yuuri, who were jumping up and down to get his attention from Japan. He scanned the crowd for Otabek and saw him far the distance, knowing it was cheesy, but not giving a shit, Yuri blew him a kiss. Otabek laughed and sent one in return.

 

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, the athletes celebrating and taking pictures. Yuri and Otabek eventually found their way over to each other, both happily lost in the spirit of the evening.

 

As his boyfriend kissed him under the fireworks, Yuri felt that he had never been more alive.

 

* * *

 

The first week of the games passed quickly. They trained mostly, did some sightseeing when they could, or caught other events. Eventually, the day came for men’s singles, and Yuri was in his costume, getting ready for his short program.

 

Nerves beginning to eat at him, he turned a corner, surprised to see Victor and Yuuri standing there.

 

“You pulled the first slot!” Victor said cheerfully while Yuuri’s face fell.

 

Looking concerned at his fiance’s reaction, Victor frowned. “What’s wrong, Yuuri?”

 

“F-First. I have to go first. At the _Olympics._ ” Yuuri choked, voice escalating.

 

Victor’s eyes widened as Yuuri began to fall apart in front of him. “Yes, but you can do it. You’ve been training so hard, and-”

 

“Victor, I _can’t!”_ Yuuri cried, dropping his face in his hands, “I can’t do it!”

 

_Come on, you emotionally constipated asshole. You’re supposed to be his coach and his fiance! Ugh. Fucking…_

 

Yuri was about to step in and starting yelling, but he froze as he saw Victor very carefully guide Yuuri over to a chair and murmur to him softly, rubbing his back.

 

“Come on, love,” Victor purred soothingly, “Breathe with me. You’re alright.”

 

It wasn’t how Yuri liked to have his attacks dealt with, but obviously Victor knew what he was doing. After a few minutes of murmuring, Yuuri’s breathing slowed and he became less tense, arms loosening their grip on his legs.

 

_Okay, they’re alright._

_Good._

 

Yuri figured he had seen enough of the private moment and he turned to head back to warm up, knowing Yuuri was in good hands.

 

_In a less than an hour, I’ll be on that ice, too._

_I can do this._

 

The warm up was tense, Yuuri finding it more difficult than he anticipated preparing next to skaters with whom he was so close. Phichit nailed a triple axel across from him while Otabek was practice spins. Yuuri had come out on the ice as well, along with other skaters. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least.

 

_Okay, right now, they can’t matter._

_Push them out of your head. This is about you. The next hour has to be about you._

_But, fuck, Katsudon looks so nervous._

_Aw, shit, Georgi just crashed. Get up, get up!_

_Beka’s wincing. Did he forget to stretch?_

_UGH NO FOCUS, IDIOT._

_You know what?_

_Fuck it._

 

Skating over, he got right in Otabek’s face. His boyfriend looked surprised.

 

“Um, Yura…” he mumbled, “Cameras…”

 

“You need to stretch more,” Yuri accused, crossing his arms, “You’re in pain.”

 

Otabek blushed. “That obvious? Okay, I will, I promise.”

 

Nodding curtly, Yuri turned to give him his practice time.

 

“Kick some ass,” Otabek said from behind him.

 

Yuri smirked. “You too, Beka.”

 

The program began, their short programs first. Yuri went third, after Georgi and Phichit. He did fairly well, coming up with a respectable score. Everyone’s scores ended up being so close that he knew it would really come down to the free skate.

 

Yuri wanted to watch Yuuri perform, knowing how nervous the other was. First up, Yuuri skated on the ice, waving to the crowd.

 

_Wow, you’d never guess he had an anxiety attack earlier. And he killed his short program, too._

 

The music for Yuuri’s free skate began and Yuri’s jaw nearly dropped. He hadn’t seen him practice for a long time and it was like he was looking at a new skater. Every moment was perfect, and his base score was obviously outrageously high, given the technical elements in his program. Yuri watched, trying to find a flaw, any flaw, and failed.

 

_Holy shit._

_This is going to be tough to beat._

 

After Yuuri’s outstanding program completed, Yuri went back to the locker room. He had pulled the second to last slot, Otabek the only one after him. He stretched and listened to music, only pausing occasionally to listen to scores.

 

_Yuuri’s still in first...looks like JJ’s in second._

 

Phichit was the last skater before him and as he took the ice, Yuri steeled his nerves, Yakov clamping a hand on his shoulder.

 

“You can do this, Yurachka,” Yakov said, “Your short program was excellent. I have faith in you.”

 

Yuri nodded, unsure of if he was feeling nervous, or excited. He felt a presence behind him and he turned to see his boyfriend, who was smiling at him encouragingly.

 

“Go kick some ass,” Otabek murmured, kissing him softly. Yuri squeezed his hand, nerves abating momentarily.

 

Phichit finished his free skate and Yuri waited until the ice was clear.

 

_This is it. It’s now or never._

 

Yuri took to the ice, plastering a smile to his face. He spared a glance up to the seats where his heart lifted as he saw Victor and Yuuri waving and cheering down at him. Feeling a warm glow, he settled into his first pose.

 

The soft oboe solo began to play, Yuri moving gracefully into his first move. Keeping his moves fluid, he moved and spun to the music, building up to his first jump.

 

_Triple toe loop, double toe loop._

_And._

_Go!_

 

Nailing his landing, he felt supremely confident as he headed towards his next jump, a quad salchow.

 

_Quad sal._

_Nailed it._

 

A camel spin was next, Yuri remembering his ballet lessons from his Grand Prix season.

 

 _“Move on the ice like you are dancing,”_ _Lilia said, helping him extend his leg, “Feel each movement as part of a dance and you will never fall. Make art, Yuri.”_

 

Yuri began to lose himself into his routine. It was becoming less and less about his thoughts and more and more about muscle memory and the emotions he was feeling. He stopped thinking about his movements and began to think instead about his mother.

 

_Mama...I do miss you._

_I think of you every time I skate to this._

_Papa...I remember you holding me, humming this in my ear._

_My music box._

 

Yuri was landing every jump and move perfectly, unaware that he had tears glistening on his cheeks. He was unaware of the audience spellbound by each spin and turn, and movement of his body. He was art, on the ice.

 

_Mama...Papa...I wish I could be little again, and you could take me to the ballet._

_Grandpa...I wish you could be there, too. Like it was._

_But I have a new family now._

_Victor, Yuuri...Beka._

_I started this for Mama, but I’m finishing it for them._  
  


His program was coming to it’s conclusion and Yuri had no sense of how exhausted his body was. He just felt the music coming to life inside of him and he wanted to show his love on the ice, the way he had seen Yuuri do it during their first season skating together.

 

The last planned jump was a quadruple toe loop, but he decided at the last minute that he would change it to a flip. Positioning himself, he launched into the air, feeling the thrill of weightlessness as he landed back down in perfect position. The roar of the crowd was unbelievable, and he imagined that Victor and Yuuri were probably in tears.

 

_Beka, are you watching?_

_The quad flip was for them, but this ending is yours._

 

Yuri did his final sit spin, raising up into his final upright position. Instead of doing his normal finishing pose, he extended one hand towards a Kazakhstan flag he saw in the audience and rest his other hand gracefully over a braid that Otabek had lovingly put in his hair. He closed his eyes, the roaring cheers rushing suddenly into his ears.

 

He saw lots of flowers and gifts being thrown onto the ice, and he broke out of his position, a smile, a real smile, breaking out over his features.

 

_I did it._

_That was...wow. Fuck._

_That might have…no, don’t get cocky._

_Katsudon was phenomenal...but I bet I beat that Canadian asshole._

_Wow...I...it’s over. All my training and...it’s done._

 

Skating off to the side, he met Yakov who was looking at him proudly.

 

“Well done, Yuri,” he said with his usual gruffness, “A truly amazing performance. I think you will be on the podium, no question.”

 

Yuri didn’t dare say a word for fearing of jinxing it. As they headed over to the kiss and cry to receive his scores, he tried to avoid doing mental math.

 

_My scores are what they are. I can’t do anything about it now._

 

Everything seemed a blur as he sat down next to Yakov on the bench, eyes cast down to the floor. An explosion of screaming began and he looked up, eyeing his total calculated score for his short program and free skate.

 

_I...I beat JJ…_

_Holy shit, I beat JJ!_

_But I’m... I’m .25 points behind Katsudon._

_There goes gold, I guess._

_Damn, I’ll get him at the Grand Prix next year._

_But wait...I might actually medal._

_No, wait...I...holy shit, I AM going to medal._

_I...fuck...I’m either getting silver, or bronze._

_Holy._

_Motherfucking._

_Shit._

 

Yuri realized Yakov was talking to him and he did his best to pretend to listen. It hadn’t really quite sunk in yet that he was going to medal and before it could, he was distracted by cheers as his boyfriend took to the ice.

 

“DAVAI!” he screamed, completely ignoring his coach.

 

_Come on. You can do this. If he beats JJ..._

_If he beats JJ, me, him, and Katsudon will share the podium._

_Holy shit._

 

Otabek took to the ice and Yuri felt his heart pounding in his ears. He hadn’t seen Otabek practice, not much, anyway, and watching his boyfriend in performance mode thrilled him. The powerful orchestral music began, building up for what was obviously going to be an incredible routine.

 

Yuri was spellbound, unable to tear his eyes away as Otabek jumped and danced across the ice. His heart swelled with pride and each perfectly executed movement. It wasn’t quite as clean as Yuuri’s, or as technically complicated as his and JJ’s performances, but he was executing everything as it should be.

 

_Is he...holy shit! Was that a death drop?_

_Fuck, that was hot._

_God._

 

Mouth agape, he watched Otabek head into his final jump, a quadruple toe loop. He landed it, but there was an over rotation at the end.

 

_Shit. No, don’t let it get to you, Beka. Finish strong!_

 

Otabek went into his final spin, ending strong and confident. Yuri’s eyes burned with tears of pride and joy as he saw Otabek had positioned himself in front of a Russian flag.

 

_Oh my god._

_Get off the ice and come here._

 

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to see Otabek until he received his scores, Yuri waited with baited breath as the judges tallied the points. There was a pause and then cheering as the scores were announced.

 

_Wow...that’s his highest score, ever!_

_But...he didn’t beat JJ._

_He’s in fourth._

_Damnit. Fuck. He should have medaled. Fucking JJ._

_But god, that routine...Beka was phenomenal._

_And that death drop...god, he looked like he was channeling Brian Boitano._

_Holy shit._

_Katsudon…_

_Katsudon won the gold._

_Oh my god, Yuuri won gold!_

 

Yuri looked up at the bleachers and he saw that Yuuri had his face buried in Victor’s chest and was clearly crying. Heart swelling with pride for all of his friend’s accomplishments, Yuri raced over to intercept Otabek as he headed out of the kiss and cry.

 

“Yura!” Otabek laughed, rushing towards him. They embraced, Otabek swinging him around. There were loud cheers at the interaction, but Yuri could care less.

 

“You were fucking incredible,” Yuri said breathlessly, “Teach me how to death drop.”

 

Otabek laughed, face still red from exertion. “Any time. And, god, Yuri...your performance...it was _unreal._ I am so fucking proud of you.”

 

Yuri beamed, hugging Otabek tightly, feeling the excitement washing over him in waves. Victor and Yuuri had made it down from the bleachers and Yuri looked into Yuuri’s eyes, both of them smiling.

 

Without thinking, Yuri threw his arms around the new gold medalist, who laughed in surprise.

 

“Yuri, you _did it,_ ” Yuuri said, voice still watery from crying, “You got a medal!”

 

“How about you?” Yuri grinned pulling away, “A fucking _gold!”_

 

“Otabek, you were incredible,” Yuuri said, turning to him, “Both of you were. It was...god, I can’t believe it!”

 

Yuri’s face hurt from smiling, the high of realizing he had actually _won_ coming down on him. Soon, he, JJ, and Yuuri were ushered off for photos and interviews. Thankfully, the press played nice, no one asking him anything about scandals or his mental illness. It was all about pride, pride for himself and for Russia.

 

_Fuck. I did it!_

 

The medal ceremony was surreal, Yuri reminded slightly of his dream before the opening ceremonies. Except, he had no fear of being left behind. He felt a smug sense of confidence at standing above JJ, and a thrill of pride and looking up at Yuuri.

 

_This...the only way this would have been better is if Beka was up here._

  1. _Beijing. That’ll be our year._



 

After the Japanese anthem was finished, Yuuri was once again a happy, bawling mess in Victor’s arms. They took lots of pictures, some of the other skaters coming over to congratulate them. After a while, Otabek gently pulled him to the side, tucking behind a wall where they’d get a little privacy. They kissed softly, both staring into the other’s eyes.

 

“This was the best day of my life,” Otabek stated simply, “The best.”

 

_But...he didn’t win._

 

“I thought...you’d be mad,” Yuri confessed, “Or upset, if I got a medal and you didn’t.”

 

Otabek raised a quizzical brow. “Upset? Why would I be upset losing to you?”

 

_What? Is he serious?_

 

“Well...not just to me but...you worked so hard and I know JJ pisses you off, and if it were me I would be so pissed off losing to him…” Yuri began rambling. Otabek was just watching him, smiling.

 

_Why the fuck is he so happy?_

 

Yuri was getting frustrated. “I don’t understand! You worked for months, for _months,_ to come here and then that fucking _shithead_ had to go and win bronze and I beat you, too, and you don’t even seem to care!”

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Otabek laughed as Yuri paused from his rant, “It’s because you’re better than me.”

 

_What? That’s insane._

 

“What?”

 

Otabek shifted, looking at him in the eye. “Yura, you are seventeen years old. You’ve already broken a world record, two, actually, if you count being the youngest in history to win the Grand Prix. And now you’re an _Olympic silver medalist.”_

 

He paused, shifting to take Yuri’s hands into his own.

 

“You are the best damn male figure skater in the world. Possibly the best in history,” Otabek continued, smiling softly, “On top of the all the shit you’ve had to deal with, you still came out on top.”

 

Yuri blushed slightly. “Not on top. Katsudon beat me.”

 

“Katsuki Yuuri is a twenty-five year old man who, for some strange reason, seems to think that his own wedding hinges on winning a gold medal. He has been skating for longer than you have been alive, and he has more experience, plus a coach that is literally a live-in.”

 

_I guess that’s true._

 

“He deserved to win,” Otabek rushed, “I’m not saying he didn’t. He was incredible. And don’t get me wrong, losing to JJ sucked...but Yura...you were _unbelieveable._ Did you notice how many people were crying after your free skate? The media is already calling you the ‘Ice Prince of Russia.’”

 

_They’ve changed their tune, then._

 

“You’re a force of nature,” Otabek said, eyes swimming with a kind of frenzied passion, like he _needed_ Yuri to understand, “Like lighting.”

 

Yuri was pretty sure he had never blushed so hard in his life. “But you’re scared of storms,” he mumbled, unsure of what else to say to such an impassioned speech.

 

Grinning, Otabek leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “What can I say? I’m attracted to danger.”

 

Yuri grinned back, the weight of the medal on his chest suddenly feeling a little more real to him. Leaning in, he kissed Otabek enthusiastically, getting lost in his embrace.

 

_I did it. All on my own terms._

_Like a big fuck you, middle finger, to the fucking assholes who ruined my life. I did this._

_Me._

_I’m a fucking Olympic medalist._

  
_And in Beijing 2022, you can bet your ass I’ll be a gold medalist._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I hope you liked the medal situation...it seemed realistic, and I wanted to give Yuuri a win. :)


	14. Epilogue: It’s a Bit of a Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging on this wild ride with me! I hope you enjoy this little epilogue.

Just as quickly as the Olympics started, they were over.

 

It was bittersweet getting on the plane. Yuri was excited to go back to Russia, but he was once again leaving Otabek. Granted, he was flying back home a silver medalist, but he was unsure of what he would do with himself once they got back to St. Petersburg. The off-season was approaching and Yuri was a little scared of having nothing to do.

 

_Well, that’s not entirely true…_

 

In true, dramatic fashion, Victor had re-proposed to Yuuri after his Olympic win, and they boldly declared that they were going to get married in Hasetsu as soon as possible. Yuri grumbled, because it meant another ridiculously long flight, but he was secretly delighted for them.

 

The plane ride home to Russia seemed dull and lifeless compared to the last two weeks. He had been so caught up in the brilliance of the games, the interviews, the presence of Otabek, that he had almost forgotten some of the troubles that weighed on him. His meds were still causing him problems, he still worried about his grandfather, and he lived every day in a small panic that someone would unravel his story.

 

As an Olympic medalist on top of the scandal from earlier in the season, Yuri really was the talk of the town when it came to skating and Russian athletes in general. He had been hounded for interview after interview, and he avoided them all as much as possible.

 

_Stop thinking about all that now._

_There’s a crazy, insane wedding to plan._

 

The flight was spent mostly talking with Victor and Yuuri about what they wanted at their wedding, who was going to be invited, and all the details.

 

“Yuri, of course, _you_ will be my best man,” Victor said, as if Yuri had already accepted.

 

_What?_

 

“Uh...seriously?” he scoffed, “Do you like...not have other friends?”

 

Victor pouted. “You wound me. You know you’re like family, Yurio. Yuuri has Phichit to stand up for him, and I’d like you to stand up for me.”

 

_Wow. I’m actually kind of touched._

 

“Yeah...okay,” he murmured, turning red, “Sure, Victor.”

 

The rest of the flight quite literally flew by as they made plans, writing down what they would need to order. Yuri was furious at the pair of them and kept remarking that they should have given everyone more than a few weeks notice. Victor had already booked them a second flight from Russia to Japan, the only consolation of the horrendously long flight being that Otabek would be meeting them in Hasetsu.

 

When the plane finally touched down in St. Petersburg, there was a large, cheering crowd at the airport to meet the Russian athletes. Yuri recognized a group of his ardent fans and he scooted between Yuuri and Victor to avoid the onslaught.

 

They managed to weave their way through the crowd undetected, heading to baggage claim.

 

“Our flight to Hasetsu leaves in about eight hours,” Victor said, “That gives us time to go to the apartment and see the girls.”

 

_Aw, Kobi and Makka. I missed them._

 

The same friend that had been watching the animals and the apartment picked them up from the airport in Victor’s car. They drove back in peaceful silence, Yuri dozing off every few minutes. Upon arrival in the apartment, Yuri melted when he saw his beloved cat curled up on his bed. Walking over, he pet her softly while Victor and Yuuri greeted an excited Makkachin.

 

_It really feels like home here._

 

Yuri took his medal carefully out of his bag, laying on top of his dresser. It still didn’t feel real to him that he had won, but he thought that if he maybe he laid it out where he could see it, it might sink in.

 

He turned his suitcase over, dumping the contents out onto the floor. Quickly going through his closet, he packed clothes that would be appropriate for Hasetsu’s climate and a wedding. He hopped in the shower quickly, hoping to freshen up enough to suffer through another insanely long plane ride.

 

When he finished with his shower, he pulled on his comfort clothes; Victor’s black shirt, his comfortable black sweats, and Otabek’s jacket. They had traded their team jackets back after their events and Yuri’s heart still skipped a beat each time he caught sight of the “ALTIN” emblazoned on the back.

 

Pulling out his phone, he curled up next to Kobi and took a picture with her, quickly sending it to Otabek.

 

 **Yuri:** I’m home. God I can’t believe we have to get on another flight in a few hours. I’m going to die.

 **Otabek:** I’m home, too. And yes...ugh, I’m dying. My mom says I look like a zombie and my sister won’t stop jumping on me.

 

Yuri swallowed as he read the text. Otabek didn’t talk about his family a lot around Yuri, but he knew that he had a perfectly nice set of parents and a very loving little sister and they lived in a modest house somewhere near Almaty.

 

_Maybe I’ll get to meet them someday._

 

 **Otabek:** See you in Hasetsu?

 **Yuri:** Hasetsu. I’ll be the one in blue and gold.

 

* * *

 

Yuri had enough of Victor’s whining.

 

It was the day of the wedding and he was trying to get Victor’s tie on straight, given that the idiots had decided to have their wedding outside where any paparazzi could get a shot of them.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Victor, and hold still if you want to look halfway decent,” he grumbled, straightening the older man’s tie.

 

Victor smiled. “Aw, such kind words.”

 

“Shut up,” Yuri repeated, fixing the tie, “There. Now you look presentable.”

 

Both Yuuri and Victor had decided on classic black tuxedos, which Yuri found a little ridiculous given that it was an outdoor wedding by the beach in front of a Ninja castle...but who was he to judge?

 

“Yurio,” Victor murmured softly, “You know this won’t change anything, right? Our marriage? Our apartment is still your home, too.”

 

_I didn’t even realize I was worried about that until he pointed it out. Ugh._

 

“I...thanks,” he mumbled, dusting the sleeves of Victor’s jacket, “I appreciate it.”

 

“We love having you there,” Victor continued, eyes swelling with fondness.

 

Yuri flushed in embarrassment. “I...uh...like being there, too.”

 

Victor seemed to understand what he was trying to say and smiled, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

 

_Maybe one day I’ll summon the courage to thank you._

 

* * *

 

The after party was held in the same place as the ceremony, outdoors and in front of the beach. It was evening now, the soft glow of sunset basking over the water. The party was in full swing, champagne being passed out and the DJ keeping everyone on their feet. Yuri had danced with every single person he knew, and a few he didn’t, all rather uncomfortably to fast dance songs. But finally, finally, the song turned soft and slow and he found Otabek.

 

“Everyone keeps monopolizing you for dances,” Otabek murmured, taking Yuri’s hands in his own, “I was getting jealous.”

 

Yuri smirked as they danced easily together. “This reminds me of the time we waltzed in the living room and almost had sex on the couch.”

 

Otabek laughed, dropping his head down on Yuri’s shoulder. They continued to flirt quietly, only having eyes for each other. Caught up in their dance, neither realized that their friends were watching them fondly from afar.

 

“He’s really come a long way this year,” Victor said, holding his new husband’s hand.

 

Yuuri gave a soft, knowing smile as he saw Otabek dip Yuri and the two burst into laughter.

 

“I think Yurio gets it now,” he commented.

 

“Gets what?” Victor asked.

 

Yuuri held a hand out to Victor, pulling him onto the dance floor. They waltzed for a little while before Yuuri leaned up and kissed him sweetly, both relishing the excitement of their new marriage.

 

“He understands,” Yuuri said softly, “He knows things aren’t perfect, and they won’t ever be. He has a long road, maybe a lifelong one.”

 

Smiling, Yuuri looked out to the beach, the waves catching the moonlight while Otabek and Yuri continued their dance, oblivious to the conversation.

  
“But, Victor...that doesn’t mean he can’t be happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the end! I hope you liked the baby epilogue. 
> 
> Check out part three, [Where You Are](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10155734/chapters/22560653), the third and final part of this series!
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://www.kanekkis.tumblr.com)


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